


In Vino Veritas

by Ely_Baby



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: smutty_claus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 07:01:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2763995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ely_Baby/pseuds/Ely_Baby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It should have been the perfect romantic weekend in France for the two of them, but then Rose had to go and ruin everything...</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Vino Veritas

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of the 2014 Smutty Claus exchange for [](http://drcjsnider.livejournal.com/profile)[drcjsnider](http://drcjsnider.livejournal.com). Originally posted [here](http://smutty-claus.livejournal.com/230199.html) on [](http://smutty-claus.livejournal.com/profile)[smutty_claus](http://smutty-claus.livejournal.com).
> 
> Beta-read by Alice Helena.

*** 

**_Domaine de la Romanée-Conti_ **

__

_This wine’s considerable power derives from its solid texture, its multifaceted red-berry flavours, juiciness, freshness and perf_ _ectly balanced acidity. You can, and will want to, hold this in the mouth for many minutes._

*

The entertainment hall of the Malfoy Apothecary had been decked out with the finest silverware and fancy red drapes.

Pardon, burgundy.

Fancy _burgundy_ drapes.

Scorpius Malfoy had an imaginary hole burned through his head, courtesy of his father and his father's secretary, when he had called them _red_. His mother had been more understanding; she had only chuckled softly and shaken her head at his unforgivable slip.

But of course, only an uncultured swine would not understand the difference between red and burgundy. And only a daft half penny would not know that a Wine Tasting Event required burgundy drapes and not red ones.

And Scorpius was neither.

He smiled against his glass and took a sip of Superior Red, the sweet, sophisticated burn filling his mouth as he did. He swallowed and nodded in reply to the plump, middle-aged woman who was standing next to him, babbling something about red wine.

“…don’t you agree, Mr Malfoy?” she asked, her thick eyelashes fluttering as she looked at him.

Scorpius smiled at her. “Absolutely,” he replied, abstractly wondering what he was agreeing to, before he let his eyes wander about the room.

In a corner, his mother was chatting animatedly with her own sister. Aunt Daphne looked rather flushed, as if she had no idea that getting drunk during wine tasting should be virtually impossible. Au contraire, one had to keep their head clear until the very end to manage to enjoy each wine’s bouquet.

A group of guests were crowding around the cheese platter as they wolfed down the little gorgonzola and cheddar croutons, following the grapes that rolled from the top of the cheese pyramid onto the table with their nimble fingers, before stuffing them into their mouths.

Scorpius shook his head as he turned to look at his father.

Draco Malfoy was tapping his blunt nails on the glass of wine in his hand, a clear sign that he was particularly nervous. Scorpius pursed his lips as he looked at the source of that nervousness. One Cormac McLaggen.

Enviably rich, still incredibly handsome regardless of his age, and with more hair than his father could ever dream of having, despite the fact that Witch Weekly claimed that McLaggen was older than him. To top that, his father had wanted to make business with him for months now, but the man had always refused any encounter up until that weekend, claiming to be too busy to try to fit in an appointment with the Malfoys. Finally, he had arrived from France that afternoon, taking possession of a whole wing of the Manor and asking absurd requests such as Chocolate Cauldrons filled with wine instead of Firewhiskey – a more dodgyidea had never been expressed to Scorpius’ knowledge – or to be served only smelly cheeses from France for breakfast.

“Would you excuse me, Mrs Smith? I should go and introduce myself to Mr McLaggen properly.” He nodded towards the tall man who was still talking to his father, his unkempt hair falling into his eyes every time he nodded or shook his head. “I’ve been away on business with my father’s secretary for the whole day today, and haven’t had a chance yet.”

“Oh McLaggen,” breathed the woman, a little swoon in her voice. “I should introduce myself too, I’d love an autograph.” She fluffed up her curls and added, “For my niece, naturally, not… not for me.”

Scorpius had to stifle a little chuckle, but he offered his arm to Mrs Smith, and together they made their way to where McLaggen and his father were standing.

Scorpius wrinkled his nose as he stared at the handsome man. Their guest was grasping a glass of wine between his fingers as if he was holding a Golden Snitch. And it may as well have been a Snitch in his hands, since – before buying one of the most renown wineries and starting a celebrated Sommelier School in the west of France, a beautiful place called Château Margaux – he had played for a lustrum as Seeker for Puddlemere United. And that was where his fortune came from.

Scorpius couldn’t remember him being particularly good on the pitch – not that he could remember him too well at all, since he was still too young to be interested in Quidditch when McLaggen was playing – but his face and half-naked body on Witch Weekly and on Quidditch calendars had always increased the sales tenfold and assured him handsome salaries.

Scorpius didn't know if McLaggen was actually knowledgeable about wine at all, or if he had thought it a good way to attract some birds. It had certainly worked, since he had had more women than his father had hair, according to Witch Weekly. Nevertheless, his father wanted to buy some of the man's acreage to expand his business. France, Italy, Spain, and every country between that practiced the ancient arts of wine-making, where Malfoy Superior Red was still largely unknown. this is just a suggestion to make this paragraph run more smooth.

So, his father had finally managed to invite McLaggen to stay with them for the weekend, and Scorpius and his father’s secretary were to go to Château Margaux the following Friday. Their purpose, to follow the renowned Sommelier Course and visit the vineyards around the estate, as well as define some business details that would have only been mentioned that Saturday night.

“Don’t come back without a good bargain!” his father had barked at both of them.

Scorpius was snapped out of his thoughts when Mrs Smith squealed a little at his side, letting him know that they’d reached the other side of the room and were approaching the ex-Quidditch player.

“Mr McLaggen,” squeaked the woman, leaving Scorpius’ arm to cling to their guest’s. “What a pleasure to meet you. You look even more handsome in real life than in pictures.”

McLaggen’s eyes turned swiftly to his adoring fan. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Ma’am.” He graced her withhis award winning smile (Most Charming Smile of the Year, ten years running), and the woman swayed a little, probably feeling light-headed for being on the receiving end of such a smile. She opened her mouth to reply to him, but all that came out were a series of unarticulated little squeaks.

“Mrs Smith would love an autograph, Mr McLaggen,” supplied Scorpius, “for her niece.”

McLaggen’s eyes seemed to shine at the thought that he was to sign something. “Of course,” he replied, producing a quill out of one pocket, and a photograph out of the other. “To whom shall I address my dedication?”

“Marlene,” she squealed out.

“Beautiful name,” he told her, signing the picture without even looking down at it.

“It’s my name,” she breathed. “I mean… we… we share the same name. They named her after me.”

“Then you must be a remarkable woman, Marlene.” He smiled again and brought her hand to his lips before handing her the picture.

Mrs Smith staggered a little and Scorpius’ father had to snap his fingers to Summon a house-elf to help her walk away towards a chair.

“This is the third woman that has almost fainted in your presence, Mr McLaggen,” said Scorpius’ father dryly, “I hope you don’t plan on decimate my guests tonight.”

McLaggen laughed with mirth at that, “It’s not my fault, Mr Malfoy, women are attracted to me like flies to honey.”

Scorpius looked at his father as he smiled back rather stiffly. “Of course,” he muttered. “Mr McLaggen, may I introduce to you my son, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, the person who will take my place when I finally decide to retire.”

McLaggen’s eyes turned to Scorpius, his smile tugging his lips again as he stretched a hand towards him. “How do you do. I hardly think you want my autograph too, Scorpius, am I right?”

“How do you,” he replied politely. “And I will never say no to the autograph of a Quidditch legend, Mr McLaggen.”

Their guest seemed to puff up his chest, approving of that reply and smiling all chuffed at another fan.

Scorpius saw his father nodding slightly, he was approving as well of the way he was kissing up to their guest.

“Scorpius will be attending your famous Sommelier Course, Mr McLaggen,” he told him, “he can barely wait. He is already quite educated about wines and wine tastings, but he wants to expand his knowledge with a more comprehensive education.”

McLaggen nodded at that piece of information. “Of course, of course,” he replied, “but why would you want to follow our Sommelier Course, Scorpius? You’re already inheriting all of this,” he gestured around him, “you certainly don’t need a silly title like that to put on your office door.”

“Oh, I’m not the one who wants to become a sommelier,” Scorpius replied, “that would be my father’s secretary.”

“Yes, yes,” added his father, “if she is successful in her course, she’ll become the Sommelier of the Apothecary.”

“When she is successful, Father,” Scorpius corrected him calmly. “She’s very driven in everything she does, I’m sure she’ll be top of the class, just like at Hogwarts.”

“Sounds like a witch worth meeting,” said McLaggen, pursing his lips. “Is she here tonight?”

“Of course, of course.” His father snapped his fingers again, Summoning another house-elf out of thin air. “Call Miss Weasley, Taffy.”

The elf nodded and bowed until her long nose brushed the ground, before scampering away on her brown feet.

“Weasley?” asked McLaggen lightly. He straightened his back as his blue eyes started to wander about the room.

“Yes, Miss Rose Weasley,” supplied Scorpius, as his father stared at the man without replying. “She’s been with us for two years, she’s a valuable member of our staff, right, Father?”

“Obviously, obviously,” his father replied hastily. “Yes, she’s wonderful.”

McLaggen was still looking around himself, as if waiting for the Minister for Magic himself to arrive, his long fingers were tapping the glass of wine almost nervously, and Scorpius couldn’t understand what had caused that slight shift in his behaviour. He looked almost nervous now.

“Ah, Miss Weasley,” his father exclaimed suddenly, “thank you for joining us. Please, meet our illustrious guest, Mr Cormac McLaggen.”

Rose brushed against Scorpius’ side as she came to stand next to him. She smiled brightly, as she always did with one of their _illustrious guests_ , and stretched a hand to shake McLaggen’s.

But McLaggen seemed to suddenly be in a haze as he stared back at her with eyes wide and lips equally parted in surprise. He didn’t move, nor didhe seem to be breathing as his eyes caressed her features in a way that made Scorpius want to step in front of her and snap his fingers in McLaggen's face.

Rose looked from him to Scorpius’ father, and then back at Scorpius without understanding. Scorpius just shrugged a shoulder at her. The moment her hand was about to fall back at her side though, McLaggen grabbed it, and brought it to his mouth, kissing her fingers slowly and looking at Rose through his golden eyelashes.

“Miss Weasley,” he breathed out throatily, “you look so familiar.”

Rose smiled awkwardly as she tried to wiggle free of his grasp. “D-do I?”

“I think you must have met her parents, Mr McLaggen,” Scorpius’ father came to his help. “Weren’t you an item with her mother once? Hermione Granger’s the name.”

“Excuse me?” Rose’s blue eyes blew up wide. “You dated my mother?”

“Alas, never,” replied McLaggen, still holding her hand. “I would have wanted to, but she just used me to make her boyfriend jealous.”

Scorpius’ father nodded. “That would be Miss Weasley’s father,” he said calmly.

“You are just as beautiful as your mother, Miss Weasley,” murmured McLaggen, he pulled Rose to him and Scorpius’ hand tightened around the glass as she tried to steady herself against their guest.

Scorpius gritted his teeth until he felt them grate against each other as McLaggen closed a big hand on her hip and gazed down into her eyes as if she was a vision.

And she was, wrapped tightly in that red dress that showed off her curves and slim waist with taste, those white, naked arms and long legs and beautiful face framed by those elegantly styled curls… She was a vision, and Scorpius had had to chew on the inside of his cheek the moment he had seen her in the hall that night to keep himself from dragging her away from that boring event, and into some remote corner of the Apothecary.

“I’m so glad you’re coming to Château Margaux, Miss Weasley,” he told her.

She swallowed and twisted her waist a little, trying to step back from him without managing. “I’m looking forward to it, Mr McLaggen.”

“Can I call you Rose?” he asked suddenly.

Scorpius had to close both hands around the glass, the urge to punch the man in front of him was making his palms tingle dangerously.

“I… I guess,” she replied softly.

“You’re so beautiful,” he repeated.

“Thank you.” She was blushing now, her eyes downcast as she tried hard to think about something else to say.

“And she’s very intelligent,” interjected Scorpius’ father. “My wife was the one who insisted we hired her, and I have never been more pleased to listen to her in my whole life.”

McLaggen nodded, but didn’t look at anybody but her. “I’ve always needed a secretary,” he told her, “how would you like to work with me, Rose?”

“She already has a job,” snapped Scorpius, none too gently, “and she’s going to become the Sommelier of the winery in a few days.”

McLaggen looked at him, his eyes narrowed to two slits. “Of course,” he replied coldly, “I was talking about a better job, in France, le pays de l’amour. Do you know what it means, Rose?”

“Miss Weasley,” his father hurried to say, before Rose could reply and Scorpius could retort something that he would later regret, “would you go and retrieve our bottle of 1026 from the cellar? We need to start on the year’s wine.”

McLaggen flared his nostrils as she withdrew from him, his hands slid over her waist and down her arm as she stepped towards Scorpius’ father to accept the little silver key he discreetly handed her.

She walked away with quick, measured steps, though she was wearing those pretty heels that made her legs even longer and leaner.

Their guest followed her with his eyes until she had disappeared behind a drape, and Scorpius’ own eyes were on him for the whole time, until he deemed fit to place his glass on a tray on top of a passing house-elf and excuse himself.

He felt McLaggen’s eyes on his back until he too had disappeared behind the drape.

***

**_Masi Mazzano Red_ **

**_ _**

_This wine is wonderfully integrated and complex, offering a dizzying array of spices that blend seamlessly with notes of leather and cherries. Wonderfully velvety in texture and round in the mouth, but also boasting a long, spice-filled finish. A tremendous effort._

*

Rose’s hands clutched at Scorpius’ arms, gripping his shirt with her manicured nails, panting against him as he kissed her. She tasted of Superior Red and lemon sherbet, her choice for cleansing the palette between wine tastes.

He cupped her neck and arched his back, his nose poked into her flushed cheek and she groaned when he slipped his tongue into her mouth and against hers, making him moan, in turn, when she sucked on it between her lips.

“Bloody… hell…” he breathed when she let him go.

Her blue eyes were dark with lust as she looked up at him, and he was damned if he didn’t know what she wanted, and if what she wanted wasn’t the same thing that he wanted.

He dived in to kiss her again, his hands wrapping around the small of her back as he took a step forward, and then another and another, until the humid wall of the cellar was digging into his knuckles.

He let her lips go and looked down at her with narrowed eyes. “You’re such a tease,” he panted against her jaw. “McLaggen was ready to take you against a wall, right under my father’s nose. And I was ready to break his nose.”

She didn’t reply, she just pressed her lips against his cheek as her hands slid from his arms and down his chest. Scorpius looked down as her red nails brushed against his shirt, her nimble fingers quickly finding, and busying themselves on the buttons of his trousers.

He thrust his pelvis towards her, his clothed erection pushing against her hands. He wanted to see the moment she took him in her hands; he wanted to see her small, soft, warm digits close around his cock. He wanted to see where she touched him, but her face, all focused and flushed and determined, was even more enticing than her hands at that moment.

He leant his forehead against hers as she finally took him in her hands. She was always so good; not too fast, not too slow, not too rough, not too gentle. She knew what he liked. She breathed as hard as he did in the silence of the cellar, as if jerking him off was as arousing to her as it was to him.

Bloody hell, she was already driving him insane.

He could feel her every movement around the taut skin of his erection as she went up and down and squeezed him a little and brushed a thumb over the head. His hand found the wall at her back and his fingers lodged the rift between a rock and another as he tried to find some leverage.

He was thrusting against her hands now, mindless with need, breathless with want.

But that was not how he wanted it that night.

He felt like he had to mark her, as if McLaggen could have sniffed Scorpius’ smell on her. He wanted everything, he wanted to be buried inside of her, he wanted to push her up against the wall and take in her face as he brought her to ecstasy.

He focused on stopping his thrusting and gritted his teeth as he straightened his back, his hands moved from the wall to her back. He looked into her half-opened eyes as he grabbed her dress and tugged it up over her thighs.

She slowed her movements as she let him move his hands down her back and slid the dress up over the curve of her arse and around her waist.

His fogged mind took a second to understand that his palms weren’t brushing against any lacy knickers at all, but just skin, skin and more skin. Warm, soft, smooth skin.

“Shite,” he breathed as he looked down at her, “you’re not…”

“Lines,” she told him softly.

He almost wanted to laugh at just how prim she was. So prim she was naughty without even noticing. Or maybe she was noticing and he was just an idiot.

But he couldn’t laugh, especially when she parted her legs a little.

Bloody hell.

He closed his palms around her fingers and looked at her face as she slipped her hands from his erection and up to his arms once more. She nodded imperceptibly when he wrapped his digits under her thigh and hoisted her leg up on his waist.

He smirked at her when his hand circled her thigh and reached between her legs, delving in her wet folds. “You’re soaked,” he whispered in awe.

Parting her lips, she took a sharp breath as he lined himself up with her and pushed inside. He didn’t stop until his balls were resting against her blazing hot skin, his hand brushed against her clit when he let his erection go and she became an even tighter fit around him.

She looked at him, her chest heaving as she slid her arms around his neck.

“Fuck,” was all he could say right before his lips found hers once more and he started moving.

She moved back against him, her hips meeting him with every thrust, her bones almost stabbing into his pelvis. She was frantic and keening and her kisses grew more heated as she moved between Scorpius and the wall.

He brushed his thumb against the inside of her thigh and her muscles jerked under her skin, but it was when he found her clit again with his forefinger that she broke the kiss and threw her head back against the wall.

He followed her and closed his lips on her neck. “God, I bet McLaggen would pay to be at my place now,” he panted against her skin, “fuck, you’re so gorgeous… you feel so good…”

He circled her clit and pressed down on it as he picked up speed.

Her hands closed around his locks as she finally pushed herself off the wall and against him. And then she was scratching at the nape of his neck. And then she was moaning in his ear. And then she was becoming even tighter around him.

When she came, all her muscles quivering and her walls fluttering around him, urging him on, were too much for Scorpius. He just felt his concentration slip and let himself get lost in the sensations.

His balls tightened and every nerve ending in his body seemed to tingle delightfully. He bit down on her shoulder and spurted inside of her, his fingers bruising her thigh, his teeth scraping her skin, his eyes drooping as the rocks on the wall went out of focus in front of him.

He leant his forehead against hers and kept thrusting inside of her, short and graceless jabs in the hope of prolonging his pleasure. But when she started kissing him again, slowly and lovingly, he stilled and found that he couldn’t not respond to her.

He slid his hands under her arse and she squealed softly against his mouth as he turned them around and leant his back against the humid wall. He slid down against it, until he was sitting on the floor, with Rose on his lap and her knees oneither side of him. Her hands cupped his cheeks as she proceeded to kiss him a bit more.

He closed his eyes and smiled against her lips, making his hands slide up her back and down over her arse again.

“If we weren’t hiding,” he murmured, “McLaggen would know that he can’t touch you and look at you like he did ten minutes ago.”

She smiled against his lips. “I don’t like him,” she told him, as she withdrew from him. “He’s a pompous git.”

Scorpius hummed in reply. “He is,” he agreed. Then an idea crossed his mind and he found himself smiling at her. “Hey, why don’t we go up there and announce that we’re dating tonight instead of next week?”

She pouted a little and he felt the urge to kiss her lips again before letting her reply. “But we agreed that we would tell them on our anniversary,” she pointed out, “you know it’s romantic, Scorpius.” She smiled as she rocked a little in his lap, his softening cock still lodged inside of her. “And we’ve waited for twelve months, we can surely wait another week, right? Just to make sure…”

He sighed and nodded. “Of course,” he replied gently, “we’ll wait until you’re the renowned Sommelier of Malfoy Apothecary. And my father won’t be able to fire you because you’ve bewitched his son and only heir with your graces.”

She smiled at him, before lowering her head again. She gave him tiny little kisses on his cheeks, nose, and brow. He let her, basking in the attention. “You think he’ll scream at you?” she asked softly.

“He might,” replied Scorpius lightly. “I’m sure my mother will congratulate me, though.”

She giggled, such a sweet, lovely sound that filled the immensity of the cellar. “He’s going to scream at me too,” she told him, before straightening up. “And he’s going to scream at me now if I don’t bring him the 1026 bottle in less than a minute.”

He groaned as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, hugging her tightly to his chest. “Let’s ditch the party,” he murmured, “let’s go back to the Manor, or to your flat. We’ll tell them I’m going out into town with Al and that you don’t feel well.”

She chuckled. “Your father will fire me on the spot, if we leave him alone tonight,” she told him. “Let’s go, he’ll—”

Her sentence was left hanging in midair as a loud crash came from the other side of the cellar. Rose jumped to her feet and turned as she smoothed down her dress.

“Who’s there?” barked Scorpius, tucking himself away and standing up next to Rose. “Show yourself!”

He raised his wand and pointed it in front of him, but nobody appeared from amongst the infinite rows of barrels and bottles housed there.

“It must have been a house-elf,” murmured Rose at his side. “Taffy is a bit clumsy… don’t tell that to your father but she broke a bottle last week.”

He narrowed his eyes before he lowered his wand and turned to look at her. “Okay,” he replied, “let’s go, before my father himself comes down here to look for his precious wine.” He slid an arm around her shoulders and handed her the 1026 bottle that was lying on the floor.

They stopped to snog another three times before they reached the dark and small steps that brought back to the ground floor of the Apothecary, but then he had to let her go when the door of the cellar closed at their backs and she locked it once more.

Scorpius couldn’t wait for the upcoming week, when he would be shouting to the whole world that he was dating Rose Weasley.

***

**_Egon Müller Scharzhofberger Auslese Riesling_ **

**__ **

_Opening notes of smoke and dried herb blow off to reveal layers of ripe tangerine, honey, lemon and lime on this aromatic medium-sweet Riesling. The palate is lusciously fruity, with rich, ripe flavours of mango and peach, but cut by piercing citrus acidity that penetrates. The finish lingers on and on._

*

“What do you mean she’s not here?”

Albus shrugged a shoulder and didn’t look up from his book. “Not here, mate,” he replied, “it means that even if you look in every nook and cranny of this flat you won’t find her.”

“You don’t know where she went?”

“Not a clue.”

“Didn’t she say anything? Left a message or something?” asked Scorpius, pressing his lips together in annoyance at Albus’ little knowledge of Rose’s whereabouts.

He shook his head. “Nope,” he replied. “She just said that if her secret boyfriend was coming here looking for her I should ask him if he was free this weekend to go to the Weird Sisters concert with me.”

Scorpius flared his nostrils. “I’m off to France with Rose this weekend, for the Sommelier Course,” he told him curtly.

“And for the celebratory sex if your father manages to buy the acres at an advantageous price, and if she passes her course and becomes sommelier, and if you finally announce to the world that you two have been screwing for the past year.”

“We haven’t been screwing for the past year,” replied Scorpius indignantly, “I mean, we have, but we’ve been together for the past year.”

“I know, I know.” Albus waved a hand in the air to shut him up. “You and your little secret relationship that nobody knows about except me. I feel special.” He winked at him, and Scorpius rolled his eyes back at his friend.

“Alright,” Scorpius finally sighed, “if you don’t know anything of the young lady who shares this flat with you, I shall proceed to sit right here and play Exploding Snap with you until she’s back.”

Albus snapped the book close and grinned at him like a child. “Now you’re talking some sense, Malfoy,” he chuckled as he Summoned a deck of cards from the kitchen, where Rose specifically didn’t want him to keep them, and started to shuffle them as if he was a professional croupier instead of an Auror trainee.

They played the afternoon away, until Albus had to wave his wand to light the lights of the living room and to Summon two Butterbeers and a pile of Chocolate Cauldrons. And Rose never came.

Scorpius’ eyes kept wandering towards the fireplace. He was not worried per se – it was not the first time that Rose had a change of plans when they had planned a date, and it was usually all Albus’ little sister’s fault (“Uh, I just broke up with my latest boyfriend! I need a shoulder to cry on, Rose!”, “Can we go shopping this afternoon, Rose? I have a party to attend to and cannot find anything to wear amongst the gazillion dresses that I have in my wardrobe…”, “Let’s go and have drinks, since we’re both single.”) – but it was the first time that she wouldn’t let him know in some way that her plans had suddenly changed. Nor she had told Albus, which was even weirder since the two of them were actually closer than they were with their actual siblings.

“Did you have a date with Rose anyway?” asked Albus as he tried to grasp the cards in the air.

Scorpius nodded. “We always have a date on Sunday afternoon,” he told him.

“Right,” he chuckled, “as always, you were to cuddle together on the couch until I want to gag.”

Scorpius rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to stay if we make you gag,” he pointed out sourly.

“Oi mate, this is my flat too.” He threw a card in the middle of the table and looked at Scorpius. “Maybe she’s gone out with Lily,” he added calmly, “and forgot that you were coming. You know how girls are, right?”

“Yes. But she always remembers to warn me if she is not here.” Scorpius couldn’t quite believe that she would forget about informing him and go out Merlin knew where.

“Did something happen last night?” asked Albus nonchalantly. “At the Wine Tasting Event, I mean.”

“Nothing out of the ordinary, why?”

Albus shrugged a shoulder dismissively. “Just asking, she looked a bit upset when she came home last night…”

“Upset?” asked Scorpius, lowering his cards. “What do you mean upset? Why didn’t you tell me straight away?”

Albus raised his hands near his head. “Because you were with her, and when I ask you these things you always tell me to mind my own business,” he replied defensively.

“I don’t,” he lied. “Why was she upset?”

“She didn’t say, I thought you had a row or something. It’s your turn.”

“Forget the cards,” he snapped. “Did she say something? Anything at all?”

“Nope. What do you mean forget the cards? I was winning!”

“Did she—”

His question was truncated when the hearth filled with green flames and Rose finally stepped out of the fireplace. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Scorpius there, as if she had completely forgotten what day it was and that they had a date at all.

Scorpius stood from the floor and strode towards her at once, he lowered his head and tried to kiss her as he always did when they were alone or with Albus, but she stepped back and turned her head away from him, flushing. He withdrew a little taken aback, looking down at her without understanding. “Rose, where were you? I was worried sick. It’s Sunday, remember? I usually come over and we cuddle until Al wants to gag.” He chuckled when Albus protested that that was his line, trying to lighten the mood, but Rose didn’t even look at him as she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, rubbing his hands on her arms.

She glanced at Albus over his shoulder and finally looked at Scorpius. She was wearing make-up, red lipstick and blue eyeliner around her eyes. She never wore make up during the day. “Scorpius, we need to talk,” she said softly.

That didn’t sound good at all. “We’re talking,” he replied dryly.

“In private,” she murmured. She stepped past him and headed for her bedroom, pushing the door open and sliding silently inside.

Scorpius glanced at Albus, who looked back at him with an equal confused expression. Then he took a deep breath and finally followed her into her room. After all, everything was going more than fine just the night before, surely nothing could have changed in a day.

He closed the door at his back and looked at her. His jaw dropped as he noticed the dress that she’d been wearing under her coat. A short, blue thing that barely reached her knees. “I don’t suppose you were out with Lily, were you?” he asked her heatedly.

She furrowed her brow as if she couldn’t figure out where that would come from and then shook her head. “Scorpius, I… I can’t see you anymore,” she whispered frantically.

Something stopped inside Scorpius. It was his heart and his brain as the breath froze in his lungs. He heard her words, but they didn’t make sense to him. The night before she had said that she couldn’t wait for them to announce the fact that they were dating to everybody, and now… No, that was not right, she was a prankster just like half of her family, she was making fun of him. “You’re funny,” he replied softly, “you can’t see it, but I’m laughing inside.”

“It’s not a joke, Scorpius,” she replied, lowering her eyes. “We can’t be together.”

“Yes, we can,” he told her, “we’ve been together for a year, remember?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

Scorpius felt the cold hands of fear twisting his insides. Was she serious? What had happened? Why would she change her mind like that? “Where were you this afternoon?” he asked harshly.

She shook her head again, without replying.

“You were with somebody, weren’t you?” he hissed. “Look at you, all dressed up like a slut.” She flinched at the appellative. “Who were you with?”

She shook her head another time, her arms bracing herself as if she was shivering. “I can’t tell you,” she murmured, “I’m sorry.”

Scorpius felt his heart ache at her admission. “What is wrong with you?” he snapped. “Last night you were all over me, and today you’re going out with someone else?”

She lowered her wet eyes, her bottom lip trembling between her teeth.

But Scorpius didn’t let her move him with her fake consternation, he felt his heart harden already. He took a step towards her and closed his fingers around her upper arm, shaking her lightly until she was looking up at him in surprise. “Did you let him get into your knickers?” he hissed ferociously. “Or were you not wearing any today either?”

He grabbed the hem of her dress and tried to yank it up, but she shrieked and slapped him before he could succeed. He let her go, anger and resent making his hands shake.

“Don’t touch me,” she sobbed, stepping back from him. “You… you’re not yourself, Scorpius…”

He brought his hand to his cheek, feeling it hot and aching. “Oh, I am myself, thank you very much,” he growled. “This is me when I find out that I’ve dated a… a disgusting slut for a year.”

She burst into tears then, but Scorpius only found the scene pathetic as she leant back against a wall and crouched on the floor, shaking with sobs and lowering her head to not have to look at him.

He wanted to tell her to stop crying, that she was shameless and that she disgusted him, but the door burst open and before he could find the will to force words out of his mouth, Albus was already asking what the heck was going on and hurrying to Rose’s side.

“What the hell happened?” asked Albus, hugging Rose and looking at Scorpius.

“She’s just a slag, Al,” he growled, “aren’t you, Rose? Just a strumpet. Did you fuck him yet, Rose? Was it good?”

“Stop it!” she cried, sniffling into Albus’ shoulder.

“Bloody hell, Scorpius,” snapped Albus, “get out.”

“Oh yes, I’m going,” he hissed, “fuck if I care about you, Weasley.” He turned on his heels and strode out of the flat, heart pounding in his chest and stomach in knots as a headache spread from between his eyes.

 _Fuck if he cared_.

***

**_Quinta do Noval Nacional Vintage Port_ **

**_ _**

_A powerful and ripe wine, strongly influenced by its tannins, super ripe black fruit and great structure. It has all the hallmarks of a long-lived vintage Port—very rich, while densely textured and firm. This is an amazing, impressive, concentrated wine, with huge potential._

*

Scorpius had avoided the Apothecary for the whole week. He spent days staring from his window near the west tower of the Manor, down at the small building where Rose and his father worked. He had found himself with his forehead pressed against the window, his bottom lip between his teeth until the tangy taste of blood filled his mouth. He did this every time she Apparated near the door to walk inside, and every time she left to go home in the evening.

He hated her. He hated her and he wanted her. He wanted her, and he wanted to punch the man that had stolen her from him. Then he wanted to make her believe that he was forgiving her for what she had done, and then he wanted to leave her to suffer; as he had suffered.

He had even tried to convince his father not to let her go to France for the Sommelier Course. At first he had thought about suggesting that he should fire her, but, he imagined that not being allowed to advance in her career, as she had always wanted, would have been a much more hurtful thing to do to her.

But his father was adamant about letting her go. She had to go and spend the weekend at McLaggen’s winery in France, she had to take that course and come back a Sommelier, and she had to try to extort a good deal out of the ex-Quidditch player while she was there.

“Alright, then I’m not going,” announced Scorpius at the dinner table on Thursday night. He was well aware of the fact that he was pouting like a child, but at that time he couldn’t have cared less.

To his surprise, instead of asking him the reasons of his decision, his parents exchanged a knowing glance, as if somehow they had already sensed some kind of tension between their son and the secretary.

“Suit yourself, Scorpius,” said his father calmly, as he helped himself to more salad.

Scorpius blinked at his father’s words. He had expected yells, a good telling-off, more yells and a lot of head-shaking. Instead, his announcement had gone almost completely ignored.

“Don’t you care if I don’t go?” he asked sourly.

“Not particularly,” replied his father, “after all, you’ll inherit the Apothecary with or without the title of Sommelier, and Miss Weasley will probably work double as hard in France without you around to distract her with your twaddle.”

“Hey!” he protested. But his father was right, she would have worked double as hard without him around, and Scorpius didn’t want that. He wanted to distract her, he wanted her not to pass the course, he wanted her to fail and come back still as a secretary and taunt her for the rest of her life.

“I’m going,” he announced again, and this time he was surprised by the flustered look that his mother gave to his father. “After all, we paid for it,” he added, “and it’s a pity to let the money go to waste.”

“We are rich. We can afford it,” his father’s voice was a bit high pitched, as if he was nervous about something. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, Scorpius. After all, who could ever blame you? I’m sure you’d find the course incredibly dull, and the company even more so.”

Scorpius bit his tongue to refrain from replying that he knew for certain that the company was not dull. In fact he had spent many enjoyable hours with that particular company.

“I am happy to go, Father,” he replied, “I am always excited to learn something new about wine.”

His father nodded stiffly. “As you wish, Scorpius.”

***

**_Vergelegen V Red_ **

**__ **

_Vergelegen’s ultrapremium cuvée is tightly structured, harmoniously balanced, and built to age, although it has a greener flavour profile than many modern wines — bell pepper and bramble aromas and green bean flavours — there is still plenty of underlying cassis, tobacco and chocolate to make this a keeper. Polished tannins lead to a long, powerful finish._

*

Château Margaux was an imposing villa, in neo-Palladian style, that rose amongst hundreds of acres of vineyards and green hills. It was huge. Of course, not as brobdingnagian as the Manor, but Malfoy Apothecary would have fit in there twenty times over.

The sun-washed marble walls almost hurt Scorpius’ eyes with their pristine pallor, and the gigantic windows promised their guests very early mornings,to enjoy the rising sun on the estate.

The carriage took a turn onto a gravel path that led to the front of the villa, and rows of trees filled the view out of the windows.

Scorpius’ knee bumped into Rose’s as the carriage drove over a rock. She turned to glance at him for less than a second, before moving her leg away and gazing interestedly towards the window.

They hadn’t exchanged a single word since that morning, when they had met in front of the Portkey that his father had ordered, which would take them deep into the magical district of Bordeaux. He hadn’t helped her onto the carriage, and had not even deigned to glance her way, the whole trip, from Bordeaux to the winery.

Instead, he had kept himself busy with a pamphlet that showed the beautiful villa on the front, and many rows of grapevines around it. The name _Ch_ _â_ _teau Margaux Winery and Spa Resort_ was printed on the top of the cover, while inside there were moving pictures of the place. Guests relaxing in bathtubs filled with wine, or house-elves harvesting the sun-fatted grapes – and a list of things that the winery could offer to their guests. Wine tasting events. Free tours of the vineyards. Authentic grape harvest experiences. Wine spa. Wine-based dishes.

_Wine everywhere, basically._

Scorpius had just folded the pamphlet, when the carriage circled the little square in front of the villa and came to a stop before the imposing stairs that led to the main door.

He finally looked at Rose as she took a deep, nervous breath and swallowed almost noisily.

“Aw,” he mocked her in a hiss, “look at you, getting all scared because you’re back at school again.”

She darkened, but didn’t look up at him, stubbornly wanting to avoid any confrontation with him.

“What are you afraid of?” he asked almost sweetly. “You can always get down on your knees, under the desk, and get your O before we even start the first lesson.”

She blushed to the root of her hair. “Scorpius!” she protested weakly. “Don’t say these things.”

He chuckled. “Oh, are you shy all of a sudden? You still haven’t told me who you’re screwing, you know. Do I know him? Were you screwing him while you were screwing me?”

She took a sharp breath and pushed the door of the carriage open, getting off and almost stumbling face first into the gravel. Oh! How lucky she was that McLaggen was right there, steadying her as she fell into his arms.

“Rose,” he exclaimed, a smile tugging at his lips. “Welcome, my darling! How wonderful to finally see you here.”

She smiled gently, in that way that had made Scorpius fall in love with her long before he had even found the courage to ask her on a secret picnic in the vineyards behind the Apothecary. And seeing that smile aimed at someone who was not him, made Scorpius’ heart ache. Yes, even now when he wanted to hate her with all his might.

He climbed down from the carriage, landing beside them with a great noise of shiftinggravel under his feet. “Mr McLaggen,” he said, as he stretched a hand for him to shake.

“Scorpius. Did you have a nice journey?”

“Uneventful,” replied Scorpius as he moved his scarf around his neck, temperatures were definitely higher in France than they had been back at home. McLaggen wasn’t even wearing a jacket over his expensive shirt.

“Marvellous,” he said. “Shall we go inside? Your lesson starts in half-an-hour, but you’ll have time to explore the place during our afternoon walks.” He offered his arm to Rose, and she took it gracefully.

Their host guided them towards the steps that brought up to the main entrance. He helped Rose up the stairs, and she let him touch her waist as he came closer to her, whispering something in her ear that made her blush.

“This is a beautiful building,” said Scorpius out loud, feeling the urge to distract McLaggen from Rose, “how long has it been in your family’s possession, Mr McLaggen?”

“I’ve only just bought it,” he replied, “my fortune is quite recent, Scorpius. And we don’t believe in passing down anything but strength of mind and bodyin my family.”

“Fascinating,” muttered Scorpius.

The imposing main door in front of them opened with a slow, deep rumble, and a wide corridor adorned with paintings and doors came into view before them.

“The estate was built in 1812,” explained McLaggen as he gestured right and left, “by Louis Combes. It’s in _First Empire_ style, and it has been called a little Versailles, in the past, because its grandeur rivals that of the royal residence in Paris.”

The doors in the corridor opened on immense rooms, where people were having brunches, or listening to a smartly dressed piano player near the fireplace, or were talking and already sipping wine at that early hour.

Many butlers, and maids dressed in black and white uniforms walked past them, and bowed their heads, welcoming them in French. McLaggen nodded and smiled right and left, like a Pope in Rome. He told Rose and Scorpius that they could Summon any house-elf with a snap of their fingers at any time of the day, and they would have fulfilled whatever wish they might have. He stopped only when they reached the last door on the left. “This is the classroom, where we’ll have our theoretical lessons today and tomorrow, and our test on Sunday morning.” He looked at Rose and smiled. “Nothing you’ll have to worry about, Rose. I’m sure you won’t have any problems with it.”

He resumed his walk, and guided them down the corridor and up a flight of stairs. Scorpius could see his hands wandering a bit towards Rose’s lower back. “I’ve changed your reservation as you asked,” he announced. “I’m sorry for the confusion, I fired our translator.”

Rose’s jaw dropped. “That was really not necessary, Mr McLaggen,” she protested weakly, “it was my mistake…”

“Nonsense,” he whispered gently. “You’re too intelligent to make mistakes.”

Scorpius’ eyes narrowed as he looked from Rose to McLaggen. “Change our reservation?” he asked lightly.

Their reservation had consisted of an expensive suite with a master bathroom, and a private sitting room that overlooked the vineyards. Scorpius had insisted that she choose whatever room she wanted, and had encouraged her to go overboard with her requests. They were going to celebrate their anniversary, after all, and Malfoys didn’t really mind expenses when they travelled.

“Rose pointed out that she booked a suite for the two of you, Scorpius,” said McLaggen, “and she asked for it to be changed into a more appropriate arrangement.”

Scorpius glanced at Rose. “What’s a more appropriate arrangement, Miss Weasley?”

“Two singles, Mr Malfoy,” she replied softly.

Scorpius’ nostrils flared. “Of course.” Yes, indeed, it would have been stupid of him to expect that they’d keep their reservation after what had happened between them. But he would have appreciatedit, if she had told him.

Even though he didn’t want to talk to her, or her to talk to him at all.

“This is your room, Rose,” said McLaggen, brushing his fingers on the massive door. A key appeared in her hand as they spoke. “And that one is yours, Scorpius.” He gestured towards the one next to it and the cold metal of another key pushed against his palm. “Please, do let me know if everything is alright with your accommodation.” He smiled at them and added, “I’m afraid you won’t have time to relax a little before our morning lesson, but please go ahead and refresh yourself.” He stroked Rose’s hand as he kissed her fingers with great care. “I’ll be waiting for you,” he murmured.

“Thank you, Mr McLaggen.” She smiled again, and looked at him until he had disappeared down the stairs once more.

When he did, Scorpius turned to look at her. “I was wrong,” he told her coldly, “you don’t even have to get down on your knees to get that O.”

She stubbornly looked away from him, busying herself with the key of her room, but her hands were shaking, and she was taking much more time than it usually would.

“I hope you told him that he shouldn’t expect anything but some bad sex from you,” he hissed as he made his way towards his door. “He looks like he’s gone for you, you know… properly gone… and to think that you’re such a little trollop. Maybe I should warn him…”

She gritted her teeth as she finally opened the door in front of her, slamming it close again, and disappearing inside before Scorpius could keep on taunting her.

He darkened as he stared at her door for a few long seconds, then he slammed his fist against it with rage.

“I loved you, Rose,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “I bloody did.”

***

**_Williams Selyem Litton Estate Vineyard Pinot Noir_ **

**__ **

_A spectacular Pinot Noir, but a very young one, and extremely dry. It’s a wine of great structure, with rich acids and tannin_ s **,** _framing extraordinarily complex flavours of grilled cherries, strawberries and raspberries. With complicated notes of cola, pomegranates, orange zest, anise, dusty Asian spices and smoky sandalwood. A truly great Pinot Noir, from a great vintage, that needs time in the bottle to express itself._

*

The morning lesson was boring and long. McLaggen filled their heads with notions about grape varieties, soil structure, harvesting and fermentation. All things that Scorpius knew already, that he was surprised to see that McLaggen knew too, and that he was sure that Rose did as well.

Nonetheless he could see her scribbling down notes almost furiously as their host-turned-professor talked.

The class attending the course was small; a fistful of people from different backgrounds and countries. There was a middle-aged Japanese couple who seemed to not even understand English that well, but sat silently and nodded at every word that left McLaggen’s mouth; they kept whispering “hai” every few seconds, and wrote beautiful kanji on their notebooks.

There was a thirty-something-year-old man from America, tanned to his bones probably, and wearing flip-flops and shorts, as if he was at the beach. Seated next to him, a young French girl who kept laughing and talking in her thick accent. She seemed to be charming in her own way. Next to Scorpius, a Russian man, who was dressed too smartly for the class, kept nodding, and asked many more questions than Scorpius felt was necessary.

Rose kept raising her hand too, and McLaggen seemed to bask in the sound of her voice, and praise her increasingly difficult enquiries, even when they hindered him more and more.

Scorpius never raised his hand, he never replied to any of the open questions that were asked to the class, and he didn’t even open the book that they were given when he was told to.

He couldn’t have cared less for that course, and he certainly wasn’t there to become a sommelier. However, if he didn’t pass the course, and succeeded in sabotaging Rose from becoming a sommelier herself, his father would flip out at both of them for failing the exam, and leaving the Apothecary sommelier-less.

“Your lunch break will last an hour,” said McLaggen all of a sudden, “the afternoon course will take place in the vineyards today. Please, enjoy our gourmet lunch in the dining room, and the wine that comes from our winery.” He smiled at them, and finally went to sit to his desk to scribble something on a book. Probably how cute Rose was, and what to ask her as soon as he had her on her knees.

He shook his head to send those thoughts away, and didn’t even glance at her as he made his way with the rest of the class to the dining room, where a sumptuous feast greeted them. The French and English menupromised risotto with a thin foil of gold on top, and sausages cooked in red wine. A glass of Pavillon Rouge du Château Margaux would be carefully poured in every egg-shaped crystal in front of them.

As soon as he entered the dining room, Scorpius looked around himself until he caught sight of exactly who he was looking for. The French girl was cute enough to make Rose have a fit, if she was to catch him in her company during the upcoming days. And that was exactly what Scorpius wanted. Of course, there was always the possibility that she wouldn’t have minded them one bit, but he wanted to believe that her heart wasn’t as icy cold as she was making it out to seem.

He walked to the small, square table near the fireplace, where the French girl was eyeing the risotto suspiciously, as if she wasn’t too keen on eating gold at all. “Do you mind?” he asked her, smiling in the most charming way he could muster. “They say that food tastes better if you have company.”

The girl’s eyes shone as she looked up, and smiled back at him. “Really? Cool,” she said as he sat on the chair next to her. “I’m Michelle. Nice to meet you.”

“Scorpius,” he replied, setting the napkin on his lap. “And it’s lovely to meet you too.”

She furrowed her brow in concentration. “Scorpion?”

“Almost,” he chuckled, “Scor- _pius_. Are you enjoying the course?”

“Very much,” she replied eagerly, as she finally brought a forkful of risotto to her mouth. She didn’t seem too disgusted by the taste, as she licked the silver cutlery clean. “My father ‘as a winery near ‘ere. I’m ‘ere to learn about wine.”

“You’re definitely in the right place then,” he grinned, before adding, “Are you here alone? No boyfriend escorted you to this corner of paradise?”

She shook her head, giggling. “No! I don’t ‘ave a boyfriend.”

Scorpius brought a glass of wine to his lips. It was sweet and rich on his tongue, and with that piece of information it tasted even better.

“A pretty thing like yourself,” he told her, winking at the girl. “I can’t believe you don’t have a boyfriend. Are all the boys blind in France?”

She giggled again, and blushed slightly, and Scorpius basked in the realisation that he had surely just charmed the young lady. Bloody hell, French girls were easy! Or probably McLaggen was right, France was the country of love and the French were just very affectionate people.

Well, they were much more affectionate than the English for sure. Now that he thought about it, it had been so difficult for him to court Rose. It had taken him more than a year before he could find the courage to ask her out. When he had, she had acted all shy and surprised, as if she hadn’t noticed his stares and dumb smiles every time they talked, or she brushed her hand against his.

He tightened his grip around the glass. Bloody hell, he loved her so much, and now he just wanted her to go through hell for what she did to him. He couldn’t wait to have that girl’s lips all over his, as Rose looked at them from the other side of the classroom.

He smiled into his glass. Oh yes, and maybe she would cry and run toher room. Crushed by the fact that Scorpius had forgotten her just as easily as she had forgotten him.

And then he would run behind her and comfort her and—

Scorpius shook his head to send those thoughts away. He would do no such thing. She was the one who had cheated on him; dumped him and stomped on his heart the week before their anniversary. He would not comfort her or run after her.

“So,” he said to the girl in front of him. What was her name again? “Are you excited for this afternoon’s lesson? Walking into the vineyards… Vineyards can be pretty romantic, am I right?”

She nodded. “Zey are very romantic, I was conceived in a vineyard,” she let him know seriously.

Scorpius blinked at the unexpected information. “Great,” he replied hoarsely. “Shall we walk together this afternoon? When we’re in the vineyards, I mean… just for fun.”

She smiled and nodded, her dark eyes shining happily. “Yes, sounds like a wonderful idea!”

Scorpius smiled back at her as he finally placed the glass back on the table, and brought a forkful of risotto to his mouth, the thin layer of gold on top formed a long string, and ended up a bit on his chin, but Michelle only seemed to find it cute.

She talked through the whole lunch, and Scorpius paid her no attention whatsoever; only nodding and humming every now and then. By the end of the meal, he hoped fervently that Rose was fuming at the scene before her eyes. But, to his consternation, when they got up to make their way to the vineyard, he was extremely disappointed to see that she had already left the room. Bloody hell! All that pretending for nothing.

They walked with the rest of the students towards the main entrance, and naturally Rose was already there, standing close to McLaggen, and looking ridiculously flirty as she let him touch her cheeks.

Scorpius wrapped an arm around the French girl, and was happy to notice that she didn’t seem to mind the proximity, no more than Rose seemed to mind McLaggen’s hands on her back at least.

He narrowed his eyes as he stared at them, he wanted to rip off those fingers one after the other, so that McLaggen couldn’t touch her anymore. But when their host, turned professor, turned guide, withdrew from her and started to talk to the class, those thoughts dissolved as Scorpius listened to him.

“The Estate was established in the XVI century,” McLaggen told them, as he guided them on a small path that skirted the main road. “But it’s only at the beginning of the XVIII century, with Steward Berlon, who was the first to vinify the red grapes and the white grapes separately, that we find the first important progress in viticulture, made by one of the owners of the winery.”

They walked through the perfectly trimmed grass of a little herb garden **,** before finally finding themselves amongst the immense rows of grapes that seemed to unroll in front of them for miles.

“In 1784, Thomas Jefferson, United States Ambassador to France, compiled a classification of the best Bordeaux wines with Château Margaux on top of the list,” he went on, puffing his chest out as if he had been there in 1784, “ thus making the wine of the estate famous in the new continent.”

He stopped right in the middle of the vineyard, the students bumping into each other as they tried to move forward to listen to him.

“Please, can anyone tell me what is one of the primary factors that influences the perfect growth of a grape?”

Rose’s arm shot in the air so close to the American’s ear, that he had to bring a hand to it to feel if it was still there. “The soil,” she replied before McLaggen even invited her to speak, “the consistency of the soil is extremely important, because the ground has to support the plant. The ideal soil for a vine has a layer of topsoil, and one of subsoil that retains water.”

McLaggen beamed at her. “Very well, Rosie,” he said, “you’re as bright as your mother.”

She blushed at the compliment, and took out her notebook to take notes of what McLaggen was already adding about the soil. Something about the fact that it was filled with minerals, and gave a strong bouquet to the red wine, and a rather woody smell to the white one.

“If you observe the grapes with attention you’ll notice that most of them are already ripe, do you know why we haven’t picked them yet?” asked their professor, gesturing towards some sun-fatted fruits.

“Because you forgot them?” asked the American, cocking an eyebrow.

“Because different stages of ripeningwill give a different taste to the wine,” interjected Rose quickly. “Adding notes to the bouquet.”

“Marvellous,” complimented McLaggen. “Shall we continue our visit? Before we make our way to the harvesting point, I’d like to take you through a tour of the white grapes as well.”

They wandered for the rest of the afternoon, talking about irrigation systems and air composition. Rose knew everything, Scorpius too, but he didn’t want to reply to McLaggen, feeling himself growing more and more rebellious towards the man who held all the attention of his ex-girlfriend.

Once they stopped to try to harvest – something that the French girl and the Japanese couple found highly amusing – Rose was paired up with McLaggen himself, and Scorpius squashed more grapes than necessary as he threw them into the basket.

“Like zis,” laughed Michelle, who seemed to have done that her whole life. She severed a cluster with a spell, and placed the grapes on the basket.

Scorpius just glared at her.

“You’re lucky this doesn’t count towards your final degree, Scorpius,” chuckled McLaggen as he surveyed his job. “Because your grapes have already started to turn to wine.”

Scorpius glared at him too, but before he could reply, McLaggen was already back near Rose, his hands rubbing her shoulders gently as she smiled at him.

Scorpius severed a cluster and smashed it under his foot.

“The first wine tasting class will take place in the dining room, tonight, at seven,” McLaggen told them, “please, wear your best dress for the event and be punctual.”

***

**_Bramare Cobos Marchiori Vineyard Malbec_ **

**__ **

_This is absolutely wonderful Malbec. The nose is pure and toasty, with mineraly dark-berry aromas, cola and pastry notes. The palate is so rich and smooth it’s like liquid heaven, while flavours of polished blackberry, espresso and mocha pudding finish mellow as can be, like a silk robe coated in Swiss chocolate._

*

Rose looked dashing.

And Scorpius should have known.

He should have known the effect she’d have on him. He should have known that the moment he saw her wrapped in that pretty white dress, with that pearl necklace, and those little bows in her hair, he would have just wanted to drag her in some dark corner, and kiss her until she decided that she wanted to take him back.

He shook his head furiously, his longer locks whipping the sides of his face.

He was the one who should have decided to take her back, and not vice versa. And that wasn’t going to happen.

Like ever.

He glanced at her again.

All right, maybe only if she asked him.

He sighed.

Of course it was going to happen if she asked him.

Or even if she didn’t ask him.

Scorpius groaned. Bloody hell, he was weak. He had to think about something else, forget about her altogether.

He eyed all those bottles prepared on the tables, and wished he could open them all and just get drunk and forget everything about Rose and how good she looked, and the fact that it wasnot for him.

Instead, he had to keep looking at her while McLaggen began to talk, because she was standing right next to him for the whole time.

“Welcome to your last lesson of the day,” he told the students, “tonight we’ll learn how to taste wine.” He raised a hand before a murmur could spread through the class. “I know you are already quite familiar with wine tasting procedures, but tonight you’re going to forget everything you know, and let me guide you through a completely new and mind-blowing experience.” He glanced at Rose, and Scorpius’ eyes narrowed. “You’re going to put passion in what you’re doing. You’re going to put all your heart and soul. As if this bottle of wine were a beautiful girl with long red curls and plump lips and sweet eyes the colour of the sky that bewitched you, and captured your—”

 _Bloody hell!_ “Ouch!”

McLaggen’s words hanged in midair as he turned towards Scorpius.

“I’m sorry,” growled Scorpius as he shook the shards of glass from his hand. “I was too focused on your words, Mr McLaggen, and I didn’t notice I was squeezing the glass so tightly.”

“Are you hurt?” he asked him calmly. “Would you like to be escorted to the infirmary?”

Michelle gasped next to him.

“I’m perfectly fine,” he replied, looking at his bleeding palm. “Miss Weasley took a Healing course, as part of her training at the Apothecary, I’m sure she can take care of it.” He looked at Rose, and was taken aback to see her looking almost nervously at him. He swallowed and added, “Miss Weasley, do you mind?”

She shook her head as she crossed the dining room under the silent stares of their classmates.

“You may continue talking, Mr McLaggen,” he said as Rose reached him. “She’ll be only a minute.”

McLaggen’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Rose taking Scorpius’ hand in her owns, but he only nodded curtly and proceeded with his explanation.

“He was talking about you,” hissed Scorpius, as he watched her examine his palm, trying to understand where to direct the Healing spell.

“No, he wasn’t,” she replied in a murmur.

“Did you sleep with him?” he spat harshly.

She raised her eyes to look at him. “Scorpius,” she whispered. “Not here.”

He turned his palm in her hands until he was grasping her fingers in his own. She started at the sudden movement. “Answer me,” he snapped. “Did you sleep with him?”

“No,” she replied, stubbornly wriggling free from his grasp, and getting back to examine his hand.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, her sweet lemon perfume invaded his nostrils, and exhaledher name in a whinging sigh.

“All done,” she declared softly.

When he felt her fingers slide from his own, he tried to capture her hand once more, but she was gone already, and he closed his digits around thin air.

“As I was saying,” McLaggen’s voice reached Scorpius’ ears once more, as if what had blocked it out of his brain was gone now, “you need to put passion in what you do.” He snapped his fingers and house-elves appeared in the dining room. They hurried about the room and opened the bottles with great care as they served the students and McLaggen.

Tonight’s selection of wines consisted in a bottle of Le Pin, one of Screaming Eagle Cabernet Sauvignon and an Amarone della Valpolicella. Red wines. Expensive red wines. Predictably, the house-elves started with the Le Pin, the less alcoholic of the three.

Three corks popped out of the bottles. “You have to let it breathe,” McLaggen murmured, taking the wine from the elf, and moving so close to Rose that Scorpius could see her curls swaying under his breath. “Let it breathe, don’t be afraid to let the oxygen inside.” He smiled at Rose. “Then tilt your glass when the nectar is poured, and let the liquid flow inside.”

Everybody did what he was telling them. Scorpius didn’t, too busy, as he was watching McLaggen cover Rose’s hands with his own to tilt her glass, but somehow the French girl whose name he had forgotten again, tilted his glass for him when the house-elf hurried to them.

“You have to close your eyes, and smell it,” McLaggen continued, “take in the different notes, let it bring you to another place, to another time.” He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, but his nose was surely too close to Rose, to smell anything but her perfume. “Then you have to look at it,” he breathed throatily, “swirl it around the glass, watch, as it coats the walls, then pool, on the bottom once more."He opened his eyes, and Scorpius had the distinct feeling that he was dirty talking _his_ girlfriend.

Ex-girlfriend he meant.

“You have to take a sip,” he whispered, “just a sip, feel it on your lips, decide if it’s worth your time, decide if you want it to run over your tongue.”

Scorpius looked as McLaggen’s tongue darted out to lick his lips. He still wasn’t talking about wine. He surely wanted to sip something else, Scorpius just knew it.

“And if it’s worth it,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving Rose’s, “if it’s worth it, then you let it into your mouth; you let it bring you to mind-blowing ecstasy.”

There was a moment of silence following that last word, and Scorpius felt the overwhelming urge to throw a bottle of expensive wine into McLaggen’s face.

He didn’t. Instead, he quickly decided that the wine was definitely worth his time, and he downed the contents of his glass, without even looking at it, cursing under his breath for the little amount of liquid that he had been given.

“You ‘ave to let it breathe,” pointed out the girl next to him.

“It did,” he barked without looking at her, “it breathed, and now I’m drinking it.” He stretched his hand **,** and snatched a bottle from a passing house-elf. The creature squealed, as he was raised from the ground, before falling down on his buttocks.

Rose would surely scowlat him for the way he had treated the elf. Oh, boo-hoo. Who cared? He just wanted to get drunk on that expensive wine. He had to, it was either that, or watch, with a sober mind, as an old man wooed his girlfriend under his nose.

_Ex-girlfriend! Damn it!_

He poured the wine in his glass, until it was almost overflowing, and drank it in one long gulp.

“Scorpius,” said McLaggen calmly, “this wine is—”

“Very expensive,” he finished with a snort, as he poured himself a second glass. “Put it on my bill.”

“It’s very alcoholic,” corrected McLaggen from the other side of the room, “you don’t want to—”

“Get drunk?” he laughed. “Oh yes, I do.” He looked at Rose as he downed a third glass. The wine _was_ very alcoholic, and he hadn’t eaten anything since midday, making him even more prone to getting drunk. He welcomed the warmth that spread through his limbs, and down to his extremities. He threw the half-empty bottle to the floor, and grabbed another one from a squealing elf.

“Scorpius,” murmured the French girl.

“What?” he snapped, bringing the bottle to his lips. “I’m tasting the wine, I’m letting it breathe, looking at it, and I decided it was worth it. I decided—don’t touch me!”

Two house-elves had closed their brownish fingers around his wrists, and were tugging him forward.

“Don’t touch me, little, _inferior_ beings!” he snarled, his words already slurred as he stumbled over his feet. “I’m Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, you can not touch me! I’m going to send you to Azkaban, if you touch me!”

It had taken him remarkably little to get drunk. He felt happy, and slightly ashamed, as he was dragged towards a side door. The room swayed before him, then the elves and the people went out of focus. He finally couldn’t see anything at all, as he was pushed face first into the soft cushions of a couch.

“Don’t touch me… Rose… don’t… touch me… please… touch me…” he whined, before welcoming the darkness of unconsciousness.

When he came back to his senses, there were voices over his head. He groaned into the cushion, his head throbbing.

“…the house-elves will take care of him, don’t you worry my little flower.”

“No, it’s all my fault, Mr McLaggen, I… I should—”

“How is that your fault, Rose? He just let the wine go to his head, many people do that when they’re here.”

Scorpius’ ears perked up at the conversation. It was all Rose’s fault. Glad she recognised that.

“I… I…”

“Come, Rose,” said McLaggen sweetly, “let’s go to my room. It’s late, and you have an early lesson tomorrow.”

There was a moment of silence followed by a rustling of clothes. “Excuse me?” said Rose, her tone a bit high pitched.

McLaggen took a step forward, and lowered his voice. “You promised to be my little flower this weekend,” he seemed to almost whinge, “remember last Sunday? You said that I could do anything I wanted to you.”

“I did not say anything like that,” she protested dryly.

“Then Malfoy did,” he replied nonchalantly, “but you agreed. Didn’t you? Remember last Sunday? We were so good together…” There was a pause, and then he added, his voice a bit thoughtful, “Even if I don’t fully remember every detail of our encounter.”

Scorpius had to summon all his willpower not to snap his eyes open, punch McLaggen on the nose, scream at Rose, curl up into a ball, and cry, in an extremely unmanly fashion. Then find the French girl, and have sex with her. Very loudly. Right against the wall that divided his room from Rose’s.

Unless Rose would be in McLaggen’s room.

“Why don’t you go ahead, Mr McLaggen,” she finally replied, her voice a bit colder than Scorpius had expected. “And I’ll be right there.”

“Promise?” he whined softly.

“Promise,” she replied curtly.

There was a smooching sound, and Scorpius hoped fervently that it was nothing more than his lips being particularly enthusiastic towards her hand. Then he heard steps walking away, and a door open and close.

And then there was nothing except a very sweet perfume lingering over his head, and a cool hand against his forehead.

He moved faster than he would have thought possible in his intoxicated state. “I can’t believe you had sex with him,” he grunted, his words still a bit slurred. He didn’t open his eyes, but he could feel her start at the sudden movement.

“I didn’t,” she replied softly.

“Liar,” he growled, finally turning and opening his eyes to stare at her. She looked at him almost with compassion, and that made him even more bitter. “Of all people, of all the young people we know… I’d rather have you left me for Longbottom, than someone who could be your father.” He pouted like a child. “I hate you.”

“Scorpius, you’re still inebriated,” she whispered, bringing the hand he wasn’t clutching to his forehead to stroke his matted locks. “I’ll help you to your bed.”

He brought her palm to his mouth, and kissed it tenderly, unsure as to why he was doing that in the first place. That wine had confounded him, and her proximity even more. And her cold voice directed to McLaggen even more. “Stay with me tonight,” he whined, “please, Rose… just tonight… I forgive you for sleeping with McLaggen. I promise…”

She didn’t reply, but her hand slid from his, and then he was floating in midair, and the last thing he knew he was falling asleep amongst soft sheets.

***

**_Errazuriz Kai Carmenère_ **

**__ **

 

_Staunch and varietally correct from the opening gun; this is one big, obvious Carmenère with a ton of spice, extract, ripeness and quality. The palate is deep, powerful and rich, with tobacco, blackberry, fig, graham cracker and strong herbal influences. The finish is lush, long, and spicy. With richness and a final dose of herbs._

*

Scorpius’ head was throbbing.

It was throbbing when he opened his eyes, it was throbbing when he dragged himself into the shower, and it was still throbbing when he found the Hangover Potion on his bedside table.

He eyed it bitterly. He hadn’t brought a Hangover Potion from home, surely that was the work of his father’s super organised secretary. He almost felt the urge to smash the phial on the floor, if it wasn’t for the blinding headache, and the fact that the room was spinning a little around him.

He downed the potion, and finally the world stood still. He took a deep breath as he found his clothes, neatly folded in the wardrobe, and his shoes, near the door. Once dressed, he fluffed up his hair a little, before finally walking out of the room and stopping in front of the door next to his.

He raised his hand and knocked.

Why was he even doing that? She was surely with McLaggen. Still in his bed, probably. What was the time anyway? Surely she wasn’t there. Surely she—

“You slept with him!” he snapped, even before the door opened completely in front of him.

When her face appeared, Rose’s eyes widened as he visibly startled her, but she was quick to drag him inside her room and to close the door.

“I can’t believe you slept with him,” he repeated, turning to face her.

“You already said that,” she sighed. “Last night.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Yes, and I’ll keep saying it, until it starts to sink into my brain, because right it just doesn’t make sense.”

“Scorpius, we’re going to be late for the morning lesson,” she told him softly, “we need to—”

“I loved you, Rose, I swear I did,” he cut her off. Their morning lesson was the farthest thing from his mind, right at that moment. “I thought you loved me too.”

She bit her bottom lip, looking everywhere but at him. “Scorpius, we’re going to be late, if we’re late it counts towards our final mark.”

“I don’t give a damn about our mark,” snapped Scorpius. “I want to talk to you, really talk, you’ve avoided me since last Sunday.” He knew he was lying, he had avoided her, but she hadn’t exactly gone to look for him either.

She shook her head, firmly. “Scorpius, we’ll talk when we’re back in England.” She turned to open her door with a great whipping of red curls.

But suddenly, something made Scorpius’ eyes go wide. Something McLaggen had said the night before, and was only now resurfacing into his poor brain.

He strode to where she was standing, and pushed the door closed with force. Grabbing her upper arm, he made her turn again, and pushed her against the wall until she winced.

“What did McLaggen mean last night?” he asked her throatily.

She cocked an eyebrow at him, silently demanding him to be more specific.

“He said that my father promised him, that you’d do anything this weekend,” he reminded her. “What did he mean?”

For a moment something like dread seemed to shine in her eyes, but she was quick to recover from the shock of the question. “You must’ve misheard,” she told him haughtily. “He didn’t say anything like that.”

“Yes, he did,” snapped Scorpius, of course he had been inebriated, but he was sure he hadn’t imagined that. “Why would my father promise something like that?”

“He didn’t,” she replied curtly. “Now, let’s go and—”

“Why don’t you want to talk to me? You should talk to me! You dumped me, you owe me that at least,” he cut her off.

“Because I can’t talk to you!” she snapped back, wiggling free from his hand. “You’re angry, and you don’t want to talk. You just want to scream at me, and call me names, like you already did.” She pushed him back, and opened the door, walking out. “Now get out of my room,” she hissed when he didn’t move.

He darkened and glared at her when he walked out. “Of _freaking_ course, I’m angry,” he growled, “you dumped me, and cheated on me. I mean, if I had known that you’d cheated on me, I would have dumped you first! You didn’t even let me do that.”

She fumbled with the key as she took a deep breath. “Then why are you here if you’re so angry with me?”

He opened his mouth, but couldn’t find anything intelligent to say, so he closed it again, in the perfect imitation of a fish. He glared at her, when she glanced at him over her shoulder, before starting to head to the stairs. “I think I’m going to sleep with that French girl,” he bit out, “she looks cute, doesn’t she?”

She didn’t reply, but Scorpius felt a bitter kind of happiness, at the thought, that she was probably hurt by his words.

“Isn’t she cute, Rose? I think she’s cuter than you’ll ever be.”

She flared her nostrils, and walked faster ahead of him. Scorpius followed her, whispering hurtful words into her freckled ear.

Downstairs, breakfast was a quick business, Scorpius sat next to her, just to taunt her a bit more about the French girl, and about her final mark, and her future career at the Apothecary. He told her that he would make sure that she’d fail; he would call McLaggen in the middle of the test, and tell him that she was cheating.

She tried hard to ignore him, but when he told her that even if she did become a professional sommelier, he would have dissuaded his father from promoting her. She slapped her half-empty cup of tea on the saucer so hard, that it cracked, with a loud noise, making most of the people there turn their heads towards them.

“You’ll be a secretary forever,” he called after her, as she stood up, and stalked away.

Afterwards, the morning lesson was boring, and long, and Scorpius felt the judging eyes of his classmates on his back as he sat in a corner. He was either the one who couldn’t hold his alcohol, or the one who had made a fool of himself the night before; either way they were surely looking at him with contempt.

When McLaggen asked him if he was all right, he just wanted to throw him his book. However, he refrained; and instead smiled and nodded, then turned to wink at the French girl.

The girl didn’t seem too impressed, though.

McLaggen talked until lunch time. Today’s lesson included a short introduction on how to serve wine properly, how to match wine with food, techniques for proper wine storage, and how to understand wine labels. All things that the house-elves did for Scorpius; and when they didn’t, Rose did. He usually had to sit at his desk, and give orders.

Therefore, Scorpius deemed the lesson useless, and was back with a headache by the time they were all walking to the dining room. He sat down, and glanced distractedly at the menu. Lobster with duchess potatoes and wine sauce, and crème brûlée for dessert. The meal was served with a cold Domaine Louis Carillon Chardonnay, which brought out the exquisite taste of the crustacean.

He sat at the same place as the day before, from which the view was perfect.

Rose was sitting at a small table with McLaggen, and even though he kept getting closer and closer to whisper some surely lame jokes in her ear, she wasn’t convincing when she smiled back at him. And even seemed to move her chair away from him, every time he stretched a hand towards her to brush his fingers against hers.

Apparently, his taunts of sleeping with the French girl had worked their magic. It was either that, or the fact that he told her that he would have put a stop to her career.

“Okay.”

Scorpius blinked, as he raised his eyes on the person that had just disrupted his bitter thoughts towards his ex-girlfriend.

Michelle, the French girl, was looking at him with her hands on her hips, an amused expression over her face, and shining eyes that promised mischief.

“Hey,” he said, grinning and stretching a hand to grab hers.

She raised a finger to stop him; then she sat next to him at the table near the fireplace, that he had occupied for a good five minutes, while he waited for food. He looked at her, pleasantly surprised that she would sit with him even despite the events of the night before.

“Mike, ze Californian, asked me out,” she let him know with a soft giggle, “and I said yes.”

Scorpius’ grin faltered, and he darkened. Well, wasn’t he lucky? He certainly couldn’t ask the Japanese woman to help him out now; and surely a fifty-year-old wouldn’t have had the same effect as the pretty French girl. But, maybe, one of the maids would have been happy to give him a hand.

“Good for you,” he growled, crossing his arms and leaning back against the chair. “Shouldn’t you go and sit with him, then?”

“No,” she replied simply, “we decided zat we’re going to ‘elp you.”

“Help me with what?” he grunted.

She nodded towards Rose. “You like ‘er.”

He raised his chin. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” It was one thing to pretend to like a girl, and then break her heart at the end of the weekend. It was another thing entirely, to let everybody know what a pathetic human being he was; still enamoured with his ex-girlfriend, despite the fact that she had dumped him.

Michelle rolled her eyes. “You like Rose,” she told him, “you keep looking at ‘er, and she keeps looking at you, too.”

“No, she doesn’t,” he replied sourly. “She’s all over McLaggen.”

The girl shook her head. “No, even Yukiko say zat she likes you.”

“Who?”

“Ze Japanese woman,” she replied. “We all got to know each other last night at dinner, while you were sleeping on ze couch. But Rose kept talking about you, she wanted to check on you, and see if you were alright.”

He crossed his arms as a delicious grilled lobster was placed in front of him, by an elf. “Well, she works for me, she _had to_ make sure that I was alright.”

“She works for your father.”

Scorpius let out a frustrated sound. “Did she tell you everything?” he hissed. “Did she tell you that she dumped me last week?”

“Hmm, no,” she replied, digging into her lobster with hunger. “But I know she wants you, everybody says zat. We talked about zat all night.”

Scorpius inhaled a sharp breath at the thought that a bunch of strangers had talked about him, and Rose, for the whole night. They had spent the past year jealously keeping their relationship secret, only to have it discussed over dinner, as if it was the juiciest bit of gossip.

“So,” he grunted, “what’s your plan? I should listen to everything you tell me to do because you’re French? And you’ll tell me to buy her flowers, and feed her macaroons?”

She giggled, but he had a feeling that she was laughing at him, rather than because of him. “No, you silly,” she told him, “I’ll pretend to be attracted to you, and we’ll make ‘er jealous.”

“You’re attracted to me,” he pointed out, puffing out his chest.

She shook her head and wrinkled her nose, in an unnecessary way, he thought. “No,” she replied, “you’re too pale and weird-looking for my liking.”

“Hey!” he protested. “Rose never complained!” He brought his hands to his face, touching his cheeks and nose, suddenly self-conscious.

She looked at him almost sympathetically, as if he was a Blast-Ended Screwt who should have left every hope to find someone. Unless that someone was Rose, who seemed inexplicably attracted to him. “We’ll make ‘er jealous,” she repeated, “and she’ll come back to you. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about, I’m _française_.”

“I thought you were Michelle,” he told her, blinking.

She laughed at him again. Then before he could utter another word, she grabbed his fork and scooped up a big chunk of lukewarm lobster, trying to push it against his lips.

“Wait, I—mnph!”

“Don’t you worry about anyzing.” She smiled as he started chewing the morsel with his eyes narrowed. “Now, come closer to me and let me feed you, Scorpion.”

“Scorpius!” he pointed out, as she pushed more food into his mouth. The lobster was good, but Scorpius hadn’t been fed like that since he was a toddler, and it was difficult not to grab the fork from her hand, or to pretend that he liked that.

But he let her act all flirty with him. He even touched her fingers with his own; he smiled and pretended to whisper things in her ear, and kissed her neck, making her shiver in delight.

After lunch, they even walked together for the whole afternoon.They visited the cellar, and the rooms where the house-elves were busying themselves with the grapes, and the unrefined wine that was poured into big, round barrels. Just like the ones in the cellar of Malfoy Apothecary.

“During the first six months of wine ageing, the barrels are placed ‘bung on top’, which means that the filling hole is then in a vertical position, and plugged by a glass bung that allows the emission of the carbonic gases that accumulate during fermentation,” explained McLaggen as he rubbed his hands almost affectionately over the big-bellied barrels. “During this period, there is always a significant loss of wine, both by evaporation, and by absorption by the wood of the barrels, especially when they’re new. Therefore, topping up is conducted to bring back the levels. So as to avoid excessive oxidation, created by the wine’s contact with the air.”

Rose was, once again, taking notes, the Japanese were, once again, nodding and agreeing to everything that was said. The Russian was, once again, asking stupid questions, and the American was using a barrel as a tambourine. Michelle was clinging to his arm, and standing on tiptoes every time Rose might have glanced their way.

They walked into the depths of the cellar. Amongst the chilly vat rooms, and where the fermentation process took place, surveyed by busy house-elves.

“You are free to go and explore the other parts of the cellar, for the rest of the afternoon,” announced McLaggen, once they reached the part of the cellar where the bottles were labelled with great care. “Remember that we have our second wine tasting lesson this evening. Attendance is compulsory.”

Michelle didn’t lose time. She pushed her little hand into his, and tugged him along through the many rows of barrels.

“Where—”

“Shh,” she whispered. “Trust me.” They walked for a few minutes, through the imposing rooms that seemed to be able to contain all the wine of France and England, and Michelle stopped only when she found a little alcove between two big, fat barrels that were slumped against a wall.

“She didn’t follow us,” said Scorpius, glancing over his shoulder at the empty corridor at his back.

“Trust me,” she replied simply, before pushing him back against the hard wood, and latching her lips on his neck. “Pretend you’re enjoying it…” she whispered against his sensitive skin.

He let out a sharp breath as she bit him lightly. He didn’t really have to pretend. He brought his hands to her waist, and couldn’t help noticing that, despite the fact that she was small, she was quite muscular. Maybe she played Quidditch. Maybe she was a Seeker. Just like Rose had been back at school. Best Seeker he had ever seen playing. Even better than himself. And the way that uniform hugged her body when she stretched her hand to grasp the Snitch… well, no wonders he had never grabbed one when he played against Gryffindor… he spent more time looking at _her_ than looking _for_ —

“Excuse me,” hissed a voice from the corridor. “May I talk to you, Mr Malfoy?”

Michelle giggled against his neck, and Scorpius’ eyes found Rose’s angry ones staring back at him from the corridor. It had worked like a charm.

“I’m busy, Miss Weasley,” he told her dryly.

But Michelle pinched his hand so hard, that he had to bite down on his bottom lip to not let out a curse. Then she was gone as he blinked at Rose.

His ex-girlfriend glared at the French girl, before taking a step towards him. “Don’t!” she snapped.

He cocked an eyebrow as he rubbed his neck, where Michelle had sucked at his skin. “Don’t what?” he asked nonchalantly.

“You know what,” she hissed. “Don’t sleep with her.”

He snorted. “You almost sound like you’re jealous. Which is ridiculous, because you were the one dumping me in the first place, and for someone twice your age.”

“If you sleep with her, I’ll never forgive you,” she gritted through her teeth.

“As if I care,” he exclaimed, “I still haven’t forgiven you!”

She pressed her lips together, as if she was trying hard not to say something that she really wanted to say. “Scorpius,” she whinged instead, “please. Listen to me, don’t sleep with her.”

He took a step towards her. Then another one, and another, until she had to take a step back. He pushed her back against a barrel. “Why not,” he whispered to her, placing his hand next to her face, “give me a good reason…”

He looked at her expectantly. He so wanted her to give him a good reason.

She lowered her eyes instead, unable to sustain his stare. “Just don’t…”

He hooked a finger under her chin, and made her tilt her head up. “Why?”

She swallowed, and he could feel the motion under his digits. For a moment he thought that she was going to babble more rubbish about their breakup, but she didn’t.

She didn’t utter a word, she just flung herself at him. And when she pressed her lips to his, Scorpius didn’t shy away. No, he pushed himself against her, pressing her into the curved wood behind her, and opening his mouth to welcome her tongue. Because, yes, there was tongue. And there was sucking **,** and there was passion, and Scorpius just felt electricity going through his body, as she wrapped her hands around his neck. He closed his fingers in her curly hair, and pulledher closer to him, one of his hands sliding on the small of her back.

Then, as suddenly as it had started, it ended.

Rose gasped, as he playfully bit her bottom lip, and pushed against his chest as hard as she could, to wriggle free of his grasp.

“No,” he complained, trying to trap her against the barrel once more, “no, no, no…” He kissed her cheeks, and jaw, and neck, as she moved her head around to make her lips unreachable.

“I can’t,” she breathed, “I can’t, Scorpius… I promised…”

He kept kissing her. “You promised what? What?”

“I can’t,” she whispered, “he’s going to…”

Scorpius’ back straightened at once, as he looked down at her. “Who’s going to do what?” he snapped. “Is it McLaggen? What did he do?” He looked down at her, his eyes narrowed to two slits. “Did he force you to do something that you didn’t want to?”

She looked at him. Hopelessly. “I can’t tell you,” she murmured, before finally catching him off of guard, and sliding free from his grasp.

“Rose!” He managed to seize her wrist again before she could run away. “If he touched you, and you didn’t want him to,” he told her, looking into her upset eyes, “I’m going to kill him. I’m going to use an Unforgivable Curse on him. Your uncle will have to send me to Azkaban.”

She pressed another quick and unexpected kiss on his lips, before managing to escape his grip once more.

And then she was gone. And Scorpius just stood there, too befuddled to follow her.

***

**_Tabor Adama Merlot_ **

**__ **

_With its deep garnet colour, and aromas of blackberry, black cherry, and coffee, this wine signals early on, that you are in for something special. Flavours of black cherry, blueberry, anise and caramel play across the palate, amidst fine tannins, right through the bright orange-peel finish._

*

“Scorpion, you’ve been walking for ‘ours, you ‘ave to sit down, and let me do your ‘air.”

“It’s Scorpius, witch,” he snapped as he glared at Michelle, “and I don’t bloody care about my hair.”

“Chill out, dude,” sighed Mike from Scorpius’ bed, “she was just trying to help.”

The French girl smiled faintly at the American _dude_ , and the young British man just felt the urge to gag at the scene. “To help me, you’ll have to—”

“—distract McLaggen, while you corner Rose in an empty room,” they replied together.

“You told us already, dude.”

“Oui, dude,” snickered the girl. “Twenty-seven times already.”

“Whatever,” he grunted, feeling as if they were mocking him. “I just don’t want her anywhere close to that guy. I don’t like him.”

The American dude shrugged an imposing shoulder. “He is one of the main experts on wine,” he pointed out.

“And ‘e’s ‘andsome,” added Michelle.

“Zip it,” snapped Scorpius. “Let’s go, I don’t want to be late to the wine tasting lesson.”

“No,” said Mike, “the sooner it starts the better. I still have to study for tomorrow morning’s test.”

Scorpius blinked as he followed them out of his room, and towards the stairs. He had completely forgotten about the test. Not that he had to study for it… First of all, he didn’t really care if he passed it or not. `and second, he already knew everything. And Rose too. Most of the things they had talked about, in the past two days, they had learnt together; or he had taught her, or vice versa. And surely McLaggen knew that Rose was already prepared: if he wanted to do something to her – all Scorpius could imagine now, when he thought about them, was Rose being forced by that pervert McLaggen in his own bed. What better time than the night that she was there; while everybody else was busy studying?

But Scorpius wouldn’t be busy studying. He would be busy trying hard to get the girl.

They walked downstairs, and into the dining room, where most of the students had already taken a seat, and were chatting noisily about whatever champagne brand they personally preferred. The Japanese liked Veuve Monsigny Champagne Brut. Scorpius had to wrinkle his nose at the ridiculously cheap brand.

He sat with Michelle at his side, and noticed that the bottles on the tables of the dining rooms were all filled with white wine tonight. A Montrachet Grand Cru, a bottle of Dom Perignon, and a Passito Bianco Veneto. Surely McLaggen spared no expenses for those classes, and Scorpius was glad for that.

“Welcome to your last lesson,” McLaggen boomed, once everybody was seated at a table. “Tonight we have a variety of white wines to taste. Please, take the tapered glass in your hand, and let the house-elves serve you with our first choice of white, a Passito Bianco from Italy.”

Scorpius looked over at Rose, but she looked particularly interested in her glass, as she tilted it in the correct way, to help the house-elf gently pour some wine inside. She thanked the creature, as per usual,and Scorpius remembered his outburst with the elves the night before, and wondered if she had noticed. Ah, of course she had. She noticed everything.

“Sir needs to tilt his glass,” squealed a voice at his feet.

Scorpius looked down at the house-elf, and offered his glass to him, tilting it to help the creature pour it against the crystal walls.

“Look at the wine,” encouraged McLaggen, from his seat near Rose. “Tilt your glass, and look at it against the white tablecloths.” He tilted his own glass to show them. “Can you see that dense yellow colour? Almost gold, isn’t it?”

Scorpius looked at Rose, as she looked at the wine. Of course she wouldn’t be looking at him. He lowered his eyes, and stared at his own glass without even seeing it.

“Swirl it in your glass now, let it coat the walls, slowly, and then quickly. Now, bring it to your nose, and take a good, deep sniff, at the aroma,” he told them. The room filled with the noises of people sniffing wine.

“What can you tell me about it?”

“It’s sweet,” said the Russian. “Very sweet.”

“It’s almost as if it had candied fruits…” said Mike.

“…and apricots, I smell apricots,” finished Rose.

“Wonderful,” said McLaggen, looking at Rose. “Yes, apricots. Good job, Rosie. Now, take a sip, keep it on your tongue, as I showed you yesterday, taste it slowly. Let it swipe over your senses.”

Scorpius took a sip. It was sweet. Sweet and well balanced, exactly what he had expected from a wine that spent almost two years in the cellars, before being ready to be served.

“It is rather alcoholic,” he went on, “can you feel the alcohol? Don’t let it go to your head. Take another sip, and swallow it gently. Feel its aroma at the back of your throat.”

Scorpius did as he was told. The wine burned down his throat, as if it was even more alcoholic than McLaggen was hinting. Scorpius felt it strong, and now that it hit the back of his throat, it wasn’t that sweet after all…

He looked at Rose, but she was a bit out of focus, in front of his eyes.

“Scorpius? Are you alright?” Michelle’s voice was deep, and distorted in his ears.

“Yes, yes,” he slurred. Merlin, what was in that wine? He was worse than a Pygmy Puff. Did Pygmy Puffs even get drunk? Rose looked a bit like a Pygmy Puff with her hair… He liked Pygmy Puffs… how many times could he say Pygmy Puff in—

“Scorpius!”

When he opened his eyes again, Scorpius was lying on the same couch as the night before. His head was killing him, and he felt rather nauseous. “Bloody hell,” he mumbled as he tried to sit upright.

“You really can’t drink, dude.”

Scorpius blinked as he was helped to his feet. “What happened?”

“You drank like ‘alf a glass and you were gone,” she told him, “the ‘ouse-elves ‘ad to take you to the couch again.”

“I can drink,” he said stupidly. “Where’s Rose?”

“Gone with McLaggen,” replied Mike.

“What?” Scorpius’ voice was high-pitched. “You had to distract him!”

Mike nodded. “Yes, but you were out of it. Did you want us not to wake you up?”

Scorpius glared at him. “There are two of you!” he snapped. “Couldn’t you split up?”

“Chill out,” said Michelle. “Just ask ze ‘ouse-elves where zey are.”

Scorpius snorted. “As if they’re going to tell me. They work for McLaggen.”

“Well, I don’t know about you,” she replied nonchalantly. “But Monsieur McLaggen told me zat I could ask anyzing I wanted to ze ‘ouse-elves when I arrived.”

Scorpius looked at her, lips parted in surprise. McLaggen had said that! He had said that he could ask anything he wanted of the house-elves. Of course, he probably meant food, and drink, and where the toilet was, but who cared?

“Where are the house-elves?” he almost barked out, looking around him.

Michelle shrugged a shoulder, and snapped her fingers, just like McLaggen did, every time he wanted those creatures to appear.

A loud pop, followed by a “Mademoiselle Michelle a appelé?” in a squeaky voice, made Scorpius look around frantically for the house-elf who had just appeared.

“Bring me to McLaggen,” he ordered him. “Now, elf.”

The house-elf eyed him warily. “Monsieur McLaggen doesn’t want to be disturbed,” he replied in perfect English, and Scorpius couldn’t help wondering how long it had taken their host to teach a foreign language to a house-elf.

“He said we could ask you anything,” Scorpius snapped. “And I demand you to bring me to McLaggen right now.”

The elf grabbed the clean tea towel that he was wearing, twisting it in his brown hands, as if he was in front of some great dilemma. “But Monsieur McLaggen is with Mademoiselle Weasley,” squealed the elf, “he doesn’t want to be disturbed until tomorrow morning.”

Scorpius gritted his teeth as he grasped the little arm in his fingers. “Bring me there now,” he grunted, “unless you want to disobey your Master’s orders.”

“But Monsieur McLaggen—”

“I won’t disturb him,” he hissed, “I’ll just hex his sorry arse, if he’s gone too close to my girlfriend.”

“Aww, girlfriend!” exclaimed Michelle.

Scorpius glared at her, before returning his attention to the elf. “Bring me there, now, or I’ll hex you too!”

The elf squealed again, and Scorpius was already retrieving his wand from a pocket when, with a loud pop, he found himself in a little, richly furnished sitting room.

The house-elf bowed in front of him, looking utterly scared as he disappeared once more, leaving Scorpius there, in what was probably McLaggen’s private quarters.

He raised his eyes, and found himself staring at a Nimbus 3000 in a glass case with pictures of a young, and quite handsome, blond wizard blocking a Quaffle in front of the highest hoop over, and over again.

Surely those were McLaggen’s private rooms.

“I hardly think that’s appropriate Mr McLaggen,” came a voice from behind an ajar door.

“Please, Rosie, call me Cormac, I told you already,” was the sultry reply.

Then there were a few quick steps, and a little cry of surprise, as someone seemed to jump on a bed, or a couch.

“ _Cormac_ , I really would like to check on Mr Malfoy now,” said Rose, her voice high pitched, “he didn’t look very well at all.”

“He was just drunk,” replied McLaggen, his words followed by more steps, and another little cry as someone jumped down from wherever they were. “He can’t hold his alcohol apparently. A terrible misfortune, for someone who’d like to become a sommelier.”

“He can,” replied Rose forcefully, and Scorpius smiled as he got closer to the door to look through the crack. “I’ve never seen him get drunk after a glass.”

Scorpius peered through the door. Rose was standing at one side of a long loveseat, with her hair slightly mussed – more mussed than usual – and her lips firmly pressed together, as she stared at McLaggen standing at the other end. He looked back at her with a grin, almost as if he was enjoying this chasing that he was surely doing.

“Our wines are stronger than that Superior Red that you drink at the Manor,” replied McLaggen nonchalantly.

“Superior Red is a fortified wine,” she replied.

McLaggen chuckled as he threw himself towards her, and she ran in the opposite direction.

“Come on, Rosie,” he told her, now standing where she had stood, “you know tonight is our last night together. You wouldn’t want to spend the night looking after a drunkard. We can have fun, you already know how much…”

“I hardly think that—aaah!” She tried to step back and left, to go around the loveseat once more, but McLaggen had already grabbed her upper arm as he fell forward on the soft bench, and she was dragged towards him.

“Let me go!” she screeched. “Let me go now!”

He didn’t. He was quick to get back to his feet, and then he was fending off her attempts to free herself from his grasp. Scorpius’ fingers closed around his wand. “You’re not going anywhere,” he whispered, “until you’ve given me what I want.”

Scorpius’ jaw set at those words. He pushed the door open with his foot as he stepped into the room, his wand raised in front of him. “Let her go, McLaggen, or I swear to Merlin I’m going to hex you until a Dom Perignon and a Bonarda will taste the same to you,” he snapped.

He didn’t know what to expect from them, but when both McLaggen, and Rose stared at him with their eyes wide, he felt rather disappointed. As if they hadn’t expected him to save the day at all.

“Scorpius,” she finally breathed, looking utterly relieved for a spare second, before she was turned in McLaggen’s arms, and used as a shield against whatever spell Scorpius wanted to throw at him.

“Get out, Scorpius,” growled McLaggen, closing a big hand on her bare shoulder, “this is a private party.”

“Not until you’ve released my girlfriend,” he snapped, narrowing his eyes **,** as he took a step forward.

“Girlfriend?” snapped McLaggen back. “She’s single. I was assured.”

Scorpius flared his nostrils. “Well, she’s not. She was lying to you.” He felt rather stupid, to have to rectify Rose’s words, especially because he wasn’t sure she was lying at all. She had broken up with him, of course, but she had also kissed him in the cellar …

McLaggen snorted. “She wasn’t the one who told me, your father was,” he grunted. “He assured me she was single, and that she had had her eyes on me for years, ever since her mother gave her my posters.”

Scorpius looked at Rose, who was biting hard on her bottom lip as she looked back at him.

“But I knew you would have caused some sort of problem,” continued McLaggen, “from the first moment I saw you. And she keeps talking about you—”

“You do?” asked Scorpius, a slight smile stretching his lips, as he looked at Rose.

“Is this the time?” she asked with a little scowl, before smiling softly at him.

McLaggen shook her slightly. “Hey, no time for that,” he growled, “every time I tried to get rid of you, she was too worried to—”

“Beg your pardon?” hissed Scorpius. “Get rid of me?”

“You drugged the wine!” exclaimed Rose, turning to look at him.

McLaggen rolled his eyes. “Just _his_ wine,” he snorted, “just a little bit.”

“Oh my God!” screeched Rose. “You horrible man… just to—”

“Yes,” he snapped, “and I would have done the same thing to your father, had I had the chance back at school.”

“You’d have slept with her father?” asked Scorpius, quirking an eyebrow.

“Not her father,” grunted McLaggen, “her _mother_. I would’ve _drugged_ her father.”

“That’s disgusting!” protested Rose. “ _You_ are disgusting!”

McLaggen snorted. “You liked it, Rose,” he reminded her. “You were all flirty with me, at the Manor, and at the Wine Tasting Event at the Apothecary, and here…” He grasped her upper arms again, and stretched his neck, to try to kiss her. “Come on, Rosie… I just want you one more time… you like it here, you could live here with me… Come on…”

“ _Colloshoo_!” shouted Scorpius, hitting McLaggen in the forehead.

The man blinked as the spell took effect, and then looked rather peeved at Scorpius, as he tried to move his legs without managing. “That’s a stupid spell,” he protested, as if he was offended that he hadn’t been brought down by something more powerful.

Scorpius ignored him completely as he grabbed Rose’s wrist, and pulled her away from McLaggen. He stepped back, and pointed his wand at her, muttering the same spell.

“Scorpius!” she protested as her shoes stuck to the floor. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Now you’re going to reply to my questions without going anywhere,” he grunted, sitting on the loveseat.

She crossed her arms over her chest, and cocked an eyebrow. “You’re being a child!” she protested.

He ignored her. “What the hell happened this week?” he grunted.

Her shoulders hunched a little. “I dumped you to flirt with Mr McLaggen,” she admitted softly. “But—”

Scorpius raised his hand to stop her. “Why?” he snapped. “You’re intelligent enough that you don’t need to kiss your professor’s arse to pass the test.”

“I know but—”

“She loves me, clearly.” McLaggen said trying to reach his wand on the bedside table, without managing one bit.

“Zip it,” she snapped to their host. “I don’t,” she told Scorpius.

“Do you love me?” Scorpius shifted on the seat.

She smiled softly at him. “You know I do…”

“Then why on freaking earth did you dump me, to get with McLaggen?” he growled.

She took a deep breath, as if she was ready to reason with a stubborn child. “I had to,” she finally replied, “your father made me. He said that if I didn’t please McLaggen while we were here, and if I didn’t manage to get a good price for the lands that your father wants to buy, he…”

“He what?” he urged her.

“He was not going to let me become the sommelier of the Apothecary,” she replied dejectedly. “He said that he was going to sack me, and it didn’t matter that I was your girlfriend.”

“You told him?”

She flushed crimson. “He saw us,” she replied, “in the cellar at the Apothecary. It wasn’t a house-elf.”

“Oh bloody hell!” Scorpius rubbed a hand over his face. His father saw them having sex in the cellar. Great, just great… “Well, you could have told me what he wanted you to do,” he growled, “I’m not a child.”

“He insisted that I made you believe that it was over between us,” she told him softly, “that you wouldn’t have been able to handle it otherwise… he hoped you weren’t coming too…”

“I’m not a child,” he repeated crossly.

“You just hexed Mr McLaggen, and you didn’t even know that we were together,” she pointed out, “you would have used an Unforgivable Curse, if you knew that he was doing something to your girlfriend…”

Scorpius folded his arms across his chest. “So you think we’re together.”

She looked at him, eyes wide, and a bit uncertain. “We were never really apart,” she replied softly, “were we?”

“Well, we were for me.”

“You just called me your girlfriend,” she pointed out sensibly.

He stood up, and took a step towards her, but tutted when she opened her arms to embrace him. “No, no,” he told her, “you don’t get to hug me.”

She let her arms fall to her sides, as her slight smile dissolved on her face.

“Next time my father tells you to do something this stupid,” he said calmly, “you come to me, and tell me immediately.”

She furrowed her brow. “And what will you do?” she asked softly.

He lowered his face until his nose was brushing against hers. “I’ll make him sack you, and then I’ll hire you myself.”

“As a what?”

“As my full time sex slave,” he grinned.

“Scorpius,” she said in the same way that his mother used to call him when he did something wrong.

“As my sommelier,” he told her, “and we’ll use your power to buy more land off McLaggen here, and start our own business.”

“I’m not selling you anything at all,” spluttered McLaggen from the floor, where he had crouched to untie his shoes. “And you’ll both fail the test tomorrow, you don’t even have to come to take it.”

Rose let out a dejected sigh that made Scorpius want to wrap his arms around her protectively.

“I think that we’ll not come to the test,” he told him, “and that we’ll pass anyway.” He kissed Rose’s head, and added. “And you’ll sell us your land at your lowest price, McLaggen.”

“And why would I do that?” he snapped, as he freed one foot from the shoe.

“Because otherwise, Rose’s mother and father, as well as her uncle, will know that you’ve tried to force yourself on her, and that you’ve drugged me, to keep me from her,” he told him.

“I didn’t force myself on her,” protested McLaggen, jumping up from the floor.

“You were going to.”

“For your information, when we did it—”

“We didn’t do it,” muttered Rose darkly.

“Yes, we did,” snapped McLaggen. “Last Sunday, remember?”

Scorpius took a step back, and looked down at her, her bottom lip was caught between her teeth.

“Rose?”

She wrapped a hand around his neck, and he let her guide him down towards her face. “Your father drugged him too, at the Manor,” she whispered.

“I see,” he said seriously, as he looked at McLaggen.

“What?” he asked nervously. “She wanted it, I remember! Well, I don’t remember everything, but I remember something!”

“I think that we’ll have to write to Rose’s parents then,” sighed Scorpius, “would you be so kind as to point me to the Owlery? I’m sure they’ll be glad to know that you’ve gotten into their daughter’s knickers. Her mother will be delighted.”

McLaggen cursed under his breath. “Alright, alright,” he growled. “You’ll pass. You’ll be sommeliers by tomorrow morning. No need to take the test.”

“Oh we’ll take the test, it wouldn’t be right to—mmph!”

Scorpius clamped a hand on her mouth. “Shut up, Rose.” He looked at McLaggen again. “And?”

“And we’ll talk about business before you two leave,” he grunted.

“Good,” said Scorpius, “I’m glad that’s settled.” He pointed his wand at Rose, murmuring the counter spell, and she finally was free to hug him tightly.

“I missed you,” she whispered.

“Likewise—ouch! What’s that for?” His hand went to the back of his head where she had just slapped him.

“You called me a slut!” she told him, a pout forming on her lips.

He grinned at her mischievously. “Yes, I did, and I want to do it again tonight,” he said, “over, and over again…”

***

**_Krug Clos du Mesnil Chardonnay_ **

**__ **

_A wine that has created its own universe. It has a unique, special softness, that allies with the total purity that comes from a small, enclosed single vineyard. The fruit is almost irrelevant here, because it comes as part of a much deeper complexity. This is a great wine, at the summit of Champagne, a sublime, unforgettable experience._

*

Scorpius had to sit through two hours of a useless test, because, of course, they couldn’t have just spent the whole Sunday morning in bed. No! Rose had to show everybody that she was still the top student, even when she had been assured that she would get the highest mark in the whole class. Her, and Scorpius together. And in fact, Scorpius had pretended to scribble something to make Rose stop glaring at him. But, his test would read mostly squiggles, and insensible answers.

Lunch was a totally different affair with Rose seated by his side. Even when the other classmates kept smiling at them, and commenting on the noise coming from Scorpius’ room the night before, and giving him a thumbs up. Still, he tried to mind them very little, and instead focus on the Sunday roast, and on Rose.

“I’ve got something from McLaggen,” she giggled as she cleaned her lips on a linen napkin, and brought a glass of Sangiovese di Romagna – which married beautifully with the lasagne – to her lips.

“Hope it’s a contract already, because I’m not looking forward to sitting with him for hours, to talk about land,” he sighed.

She shook her head. “It’s an invitation, for the whole afternoon, to his private spa. For two.”

Scorpius looked at her. “Private spa?” he asked slowly. “Does that mean massages, and manicures and masks?”

She nodded eagerly, ignoring his wary tone of voice. “And something else…” she giggled, without elaborating.

“Just us?” he asked hopefully.

“Just us,” she confirmed with a smile, “and he’s already written to your father.”

Scorpius’ face lit up at the news. “No need for us to sit down with him, and discuss boring details about the land, and the money?” he asked excitedly.

She nodded again, her smile matching his now. “He’s giving him a quite good price, and also complaining about the developments of our situation.”

“I guess he deserves that,” replied Scorpius nonchalantly. “I’m going to complain too, when we get back.”

“And we’re having dinner with my parents on Monday night, to tell them about us,” she told him.

“Already?” he asked, suppressing a slight roll of his eyes. “I mean… yay…”

Luckily Rose just chuckled at him, and the rest of the meal was the most pleasant he had since they arrived.

Once they had finished their chocolate mousse, and had gotten pleasantly warmed up by the Moscatel de Valencia, they finally made their way to McLaggen’s private spa.

The place was sumptuous, and hidden away behind a small door, and the house-elves were eager to help them out of their clothes, and into warm towels which had been laid out for them.

“So, we’ll get massages,” he told her, as they were guided through a series of rooms filled with flowers, and phials with oils, and relaxing music lingering in the air. He wasn’t too keen on having someone touching him.

“Later, if you want,” she told him.

They were led into a big room, with a wooden floor, and a bathtub that rivalled the ones in the Prefect Bathrooms at Hogwarts.

“We’re taking a bath?” he asked a bit surprised.

A house-elf tapped his fingers on a tap and a red liquid started to pour into the water.

“A wine bath,” replied Rose. “For two.”

The house-elf bowed in front of them, and leapt for the door, closing it at his back.

Rose giggled, as she slowly shed the towel. The soft material brushed gently over the peaks of her breasts, down her freckled abdomen, and against her waist, until she let it pool around her feet. She curled a finger towards him, beckoning him closer.

He licked his lips, and let his eyes roam over her body. He had missed it, even if it had been only a fistful of days since he had seen her naked. He let his towel fall to the floor with Rose’s, and went to stand in front of her. “A wine bath,” he murmured, looking at the tub filling with the red liquid, “and do we get to drink it too?”

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing herself against him, and nuzzling his neck. “Don’t think so,” she chuckled, “but wine is good for the skin.”

“How so?” He brought his hands to her waist, and pulled her even closer to him. She rubbed her lower abdomen against him, teasing him, and causing little groans to leave the back of his throat.

The wine stopped pouring out of the tap as it reached the edge of the tub, and Rose unwrapped her arms from his shoulders as she took a step back, and then another.

She smiled at him as she climbed down into the warm wine. “It reduces wrinkles,” she told him as the wine covered her beautiful breasts, “it shifts cellulite, and provides an effective facelift.”

“You don’t need it,” he told her with a grin as he followed her into the tub. The wine was warm and pleasant on his skin, and it wasn’t as sticky as he expected it to be.

He took a deep breath, the scent of the liquor was subtle in the air, surely it was mixed with water otherwise Scorpius’ shoulder blades would stick to the edge of the tub as he leant against it.

He smiled at her as she slowly made her way towards him. “And it makes your skin much tastier,” she whispered.

She slid her arms around his waist, and he could feel her warm body press insistently against his own. She was soft; and the water made her skin even smoother and more slippery. It was a delight as she rubbed against him.

She straddled his thighs, and looked into his eyes as she lowered her head to his chest. Her first pecks were delicate and sweet over his chest, and Scorpius took a deep breath as he set his hands on the small of her back.

He had to close his eyes when she licked her way to his nipple, and a little groan left his lips as she bit down on his muscles. She chuckled in reply to the sound.

He looked down at her, her white back curved beautifully into the wine, her longer curls dripped red, as if she were a painting smeared with water. She closed her mouth around his nipple, and sucked.

“You’re going to get drunk if you keep licking me,” he breathed huskily.

She giggled in reply.

“And that’s not nice,” he told her, pushing her back gently, “I want to get drunk too.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, as he pushed himself off the edge of the tub and turned them around. She kissed him then, her lips tasted like wine **,** and she pulled him to her so forcefully that her little nose poked into his cheek. She inched her legs over his waist and Scorpius slid his hands under her thighs to hoist her up against him.

He took a step forward and then another, until she was sitting on the edge of the tub. She locked her ankles on the small of his back, pushing him against her.

When she thrust her pelvis against his, he felt himself grow hard against her. Bloody hell, she was warm, and soft, and small, and smooth, and everything he wanted and needed at that moment.

“I missed this,” he growled against her mouth, and started kissing his way down her neck.

“We’ve never done this,” she giggled as he pushed her back until she was lying on the floor, her fingers deep in his hair.

“I mean the sex,” he murmured, as he licked around her nipple. She tasted like wine and smelled divine, like blueberries and wood, and her sweetness lingered on his tongue even after he had swallowed all the little beads of wine.

“We had sex last night,” she chuckled.

He bit her waist as he continued to descend on her body, and she seemed to forget how to speak, as he pushed her legs open and came to stand between them.

Her hands slid from his body, and he guided them to the edge of the tub.

“Scorpius…” she breathed, as he lowered his head and kissed her knee.

“Shh,” he coaxed her into silence, “close your eyes.”

He pressed his lips against the inside of her thigh, and looked at her as she did as she was told, a slight smile stretching her lips, as he got closer, and closer to where he wanted to kiss her.

He could feel her muscles jolt a little, as he licked her thigh, and then stared at her as he finally lowered his head between her legs.

She had her brow furrowed in concentration, as he licked her from her puckered hole up to her clit. Her bottom lip caught in her teeth, and her fingers curled around the edge of the tub, as he swiped his tongue where she was most sensitive.

She was wet, and the wine mixed with her tangy taste went straight to his groin. He opened her up with his fingers, and closed his mouth over her mound, swirling his tongue against her clit, as he pinned her increasingly writhing pelvis to the floor with his arms.

She started panting, her feet sliding on the walls of tub, as she tried to move away from, and yet closer to, his mouth. Her back arched as he brought a finger to her entrance, and pushed it inside. She was drenched, and warm, and her walls almost clamped down as he pushed his digit in to the last knuckle.

He closed his lips around her clit, and sucked until she was arching off the floor, her eyes still scrunched up and her lips parted as she tried to gulp down air. One of her hands found his head, and she grasped his fair locks in her fingers, tugging them to get more pressure against her.

He pushed another finger inside of her, and started thrusting them against her snug walls.

When she began cursing, he knew that she was near.

She moaned and panted. She curled her toes next to his ribs, and when Scorpius looked up at her, he saw that she was struggling to sit up, the muscles of her stomach all tensed as she trembled with the throes of her orgasm.

He could feel her make his fingers slick as she clamped down on them, and he sucked even harder, until she was babbling words that he wouldn’t have been able to find in any vocabulary.

He kept licking her, even when she lay back down, still shaking.

Scorpius didn’t let her rest though.

He stood straight, and grabbed her upper arm, pulling her back into the tub. She opened her eyes wide as he turned her around, and pushed her back down. He was painfully hard when he closed his hand around his erection to guide himself into her.

She pushed herself back against him, until her smooth arse was resting against his pelvis, and he was balls deep between her still quivering walls.

“Fuck…” she breathed, as he started to pull out and push back in.

He chuckled softly as he bent over her. “Yes, that’s the idea.” He bit her neck, and slowed down when she turned to kiss him.

He sucked on her tongue, and when she started begging for more, he pushed her back down with a hand between her shoulder blades, and started to set a frenzied pace with his thrusts.

The wine sloshed around them and stained the floor, while the room filled with Rose’s little whimpers, and the dulled slap of flesh on flesh inside the liquid.

Scorpius felt the pressure in his lower abdomen, as she clamped down on him with every one of his rough thrusts. He bent over her, until he was pinning her down, and kissed her as he finally felt his balls tighten.

She clenched around him once more, as he spurted inside of her, and he groaned into her shoulder when he felt her shudder under him.

He could have stayed there forever, with her back pressed tightly under his chest, and her hands blindly searching for his head.

“I…” she panted, her voice trailing away.

“I love you too,” he whispered back.

“I can’t breathe…”

Scorpius chuckled **,** as he pushed his hands on the floor. He exited her slowly, still savouring her walls as they fluttered around him. When he slid back into the wine, he dragged her with him, his arms wrapping around her middle as they drifted gently in the red liquid.

“Are you okay?” he whispered in her ear.

“Hmm… yes…” she replied, resting her head on his shoulder. “I think I need a wine massage now though, I’m a bit sore…”

“Later.” He kissed her under her ear. “I’m nowhere near done with you.”

“Greedy,” she chuckled. She turned her head to press her lips against his, and Scorpius smiled against her.

“I know,” he whispered to her.

***

**_Harlan Estate Red_ **

**__ **

_The aroma is deep and inviting, equal parts new oak, Cabernet fruit and dried herbs. Has tremendous weight, with red and black cherry, cola, chocolate, cassis and roasted coconut flavours. Brilliant now, virtually flawless and totally delicious, yet has the impeccable balance to age and even improve over the years._

*

“Scorpius! I told you about the documents for the Château Margaux land morethan twenty minutes ago! Get them here right this instant!”

Scorpius leant back against the chair, and closed his eyes as he took a deep breath.

Rose’s lips latched to his neck as she shifted on his lap. “They’re in the second drawer,” she reminded him.

“Listen, I’m going to pay you double, please get back to being my father’s secretary until we find a new one,” he groaned, “pretty please.”

She laughed at him. “I’m sorry, I’m the Sommelier now, I don’t have time to be your father’s secretary too,” she told him sweetly.

“You have time to ravage me during work, though,” he pointed out.

“If you’d rather have me doing something—”

He grabbed her before she could get up. “Now, don’t be ridiculous,” he murmured as he kissed her.

“Scorpius! The documents! Now!”

He withdrew and took a deep breath. “I’ll give you a bottle of Petrus if you get them yourself.”

She giggled and waved her wand. The drawer opened, and the documents started to float towards his father’s office, under the door.

“There!” growled his father from the other side. “Was that so difficult?”

“Tell me that your cousin will come to the interview, tomorrow afternoon,” groaned Scorpius, “please, my father was already gloating at the prospect of enslaving Harry Potter’s daughter.”

“Oh Merlin…”

“I’m joking,” he hurried to say, “tell her that it’s a safe, and incredibly well-paid job. Please, tell her…”

“Oh no, I meant that she’s not coming tomorrow,” she told him, smiling against his neck, “she was called by the Falcons for another tryout yesterday.”

“Oh bollocks,” he grunted. “Great, so now I’m the secretary, and you’re the sommelier.”

She nuzzled into his jaw. “Hmm… yes, I like where this is going… and maybe you’ve been naughty, and I need to punish you because you got the wrong documents the last time I asked you to do something…”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “I hardly think I would’ve got—”

“Scorpius! Mr Nakamoto’s address! Now! I need to Floo Call him in Japan!”

“Hmm,” he groaned, “don’t think so.” He stretched his neck and captured her lips again, and she cupped his cheeks, as they both ignored their boss’ increasingly annoyed requests.

“Shall we go and open that last bottle of Château Margaux?” she whispered softly. “The one that McLaggen gave us for our anniversary…”

He looked at her, eyebrows high on his forehead. “And you’d drink at work, Miss Weasley?”

She nodded. “Hmm, yes… It’s my job, Mr Malfoy.”

FIN


End file.
